Episodes of Violence Page 12

  Daemon looked at Sage who shrugged. “Hope I don’t catch anything,” she said.

  The two walked forward, up the rickety stairs and into the house.

  The air was rank with the odor of sex, weed and excrement. After a few inhalations, Daemon’s mouth felt like it was coated in some awful film. Sage’s face scrunched up as she let loose a sound of disgust. Empty beer and soda cans littered the floor and living room table, along with razors, magazines and pipes.

  A naked woman with tattoos covering her chest, arms and thighs lay on the stained and torn leather couch. Her nose, eyebrows and ears contained hoop-shaped piercings and each of her nipples had a thick bar through it. Her legs clearly hadn’t been shaved in some time, the hairs like a layer of fuzz, and her bush sprouted up like the head of a huge broccoli floret. She looked at Sage and then at Daemon, giving them a weak smile and wave. “Come to party?”

  “Not today,” Daemon said, wondering what the hell Dirk was doing with all his money. The guy had to be making a killing off his product. What was the point of having such an illegally lucrative business that could send you away for a long time when you lived like a sewer rat? Might as well go on welfare. The drugs had really fucked up the man.

  As he and Sage stepped further into the residence, the front door closed behind them. Spinning around, Daemon saw Dirk step up to Sage and press the barrel of the shotgun against her head.

  “Now tell me why you’re really here,” Dirk said.

  “What the fuck are you doing, Dirk?” Daemon asked.

  “You with the cops? Working for the man?” Dirk looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

  Nostrils flared, Daemon said, “Hell no. You know me, Dirk. C’mon. Put the gun down.”

  “Yeah, Dirky boy,” Sage said and withdrew a knife from the front of her jeans. “Put the gun down. We’re here to do business.”

  Daemon caught her eye and slightly shook his head.

  “Cops. Feds. They all trying to catch me. Take Dirk down.”

  “They’ll never take you down, baby,” the girl on the couch said laughing.

  “We ain’t the cops, asshole,” Sage said through gritted teeth.

  “You two get busted for something?” Dirk asked. “Turn snitch?”

  Daemon clenched his fists and jaw. Dirk was too far gone to deal with. Smoked way too much of his own product. He figured dealing with the man would be annoying, but not to the present degree. Unexpected was the word of the day.

  “Take off your clothes,” Dirk said.

  “What?” Sage said.

  “Not you. Your man. I want to make sure he ain’t wired.”

  Daemon went to lift his shirt when Dirk flinched and pressed the gun harder against Sage’s head causing her to wince. “Nice and slow.”

  Daemon grabbed the bottom of his Megadeth T-shirt and lifted it to his chin, revealing his ripped abs. “See, no wire.”

  “Take off your pants.”

  Daemon released his shirt.

  “Do it now or your woman here loses her pretty little head.”

  Sage’s eyes became slits. Her chest heaved with each angry breath. She wasn’t scared. She was pissed. Daemon’s own chest swelled with pride. His woman was indeed awesome. He also wanted to keep her a lot longer and decided he needed to get past this crazy shit as soon as possible without Sage or himself getting hurt or killed.

  “Okay, I’m taking off my pants.” He popped the button free and then lowered the zipper. The jeans fell around his ankles.

  Dirk smiled. “A tightie-whitey man like myself.”

  “I like to keep my junk in place.”

  “Yeah. I get it.”

  “Can I get dressed now?”

  “Sure, man,” Dirk said keeping his gun trained against Sage’s head.

  Daemon pulled up his pants. “We’re all good now?”

  “Not until I check your woman.”

  “Touch me and you die,” Sage said.

  Taking his hand off the shotgun’s forestock but leaving the weapon pressed against Sage’s head with a finger on the trigger, he poked her arm using his index finger. “Oh, look, I’m still breathing. Don’t you know the man with the gun is the boss?”

  “Enough of this shit, Dirk,” Daemon said beginning to lose his cool. “You know me. If you don’t want to sell us weapons, then we’ll leave.”

  “People change,” Dirk said, his voice cold. “They get desperate. They even get taken by aliens and returned to spy for them.”

  Daemon knew at that moment that there was no hope for the transaction going smoothly. He saw a glint of light reflect off the blade of Sage’s knife and knew if this didn’t end soon, she’d react.

  “Did you hear about that house fire over on the other side of town where two bodies were found?” Sage asked.

  “Yeah. Fucking pigs stopped by and asked if I knew anything about it.”

  “That was us. We killed Brewmeyer and the hooker he was with. Then torched the place.”

  “That was you guys?” Dirk said.

  Daemon noticed how the meth-head’s shoulders seemed to relax. A genuine look of surprise was on the man’s face. “Yeah that was us.”

  “Why?” Dirk asked.

  Daemon lied, explaining how they had wanted revenge after Brewmeyer ratted them out for selling weed. They wanted to trash his house, but he came home. “Things happened and Brewmeyer wound up dead. The hooker was collateral damage.”

  Dirk nodded. “Damn, you guys are crazy motherfuckers.”

  “So, you see we ain’t working for the cops,” Sage said. “We need guns in case the hooker’s people come for us.” She attempted to step forward. Dirk flinched and moved with her like a shadow. “Don’t even think about doing that again, girlie.”

  Sage groaned. “This is such bullshit.”

  “How the fuck do I know if you’re telling the truth? Maybe you got busted for killing Brewmeyer and are working for the cops to lessen your sentence.” He leaned closer to Sage’s ear. “Now strip so we can get on with business.”

  Sage made eye contact with Daemon. He shook his head. Her nostrils flared. She closed her eyes as if taking a moment to calm down, opened them and slipped the knife back into her pocket. She lifted her tank top, revealing her black bra, pierced belly button and the totem pole of severed heads tattoo that ran up her side.

  “Turn slowly around,” Dirk said and stepped back.

  Sage stared down the barrel of the shotgun. Dirk eyed her torso, then told her to remove her shorts. “Or I can reach down there and check for myself.”

  Sage let go of her shirt, then slid her frayed jean shorts down around her black Timberlands. She wore matching thong underwear. Daemon’s penis stirred as he looked at her. The sight of his woman’s puffy, tight ass and the dagger tattoo above her crack was sexy as hell. He couldn’t believe he was turned on by the scene. The next time they fucked, there would have to be gun play.

  “Turn around,” Dirk said.

  The meth-head’s voice shook Daemon from his daydream. Anger surfaced as his skin grew heated. This perv was only doing this to get a peek at Sage. “Enough of this shit. You can see she ain’t wearing a wire.”

  “It’s okay, babe,” Sage said and turned around in place, arms up and out.

  “Damn, you is fine, girlie,” Dirk said.

  “Thank you. Now can I get dressed?”

  “Y—yeah. Go ahead.” Dirk lowered the shotgun.

  Daemon exhaled.

  Sage bent, grabbed her shorts and pulled them up.

  “Now that I know—” Dirk began when Sage’s arm shot out and flashed in front of his throat. A long slit appeared in his flesh a moment before blood gushed from the wound. The shotgun boomed and a hole appeared in the floor. Dirk let go of the weapon and clutched at his throat as he staggered into the door. His hands, arms and white tank top were slick in glistening crimson.

  Splattered with blood, Sage pointed with her knife and laughed. “You fucking disgusting idiot. How do you lik
e my ass now?”

  Dirk gargled something unintelligible as he continued to claw at his throat.

  Daemon picked up the shotgun.

  The woman on the couch was crying. “You hurt my Dirky. Fucking bastards.” Her face contorted into a mask of rage. She bent forward and reached under the cushion. Half a second later, she pulled out a steak knife and jumped off the couch. Sage was still laughing and pointing at the dying man, unaware of her attacker. Daemon raised the shotgun, pumped a round into the chamber and fired. A basketball-sized hole appeared in the charging woman’s chest, her left breast gone. She spun to the ground with a flop only to spring back up, knife still in hand. Eyes wide open, she stumbled forward as Daemon racked another round and fired. Her jaw vanished in a spray of blood as the buckshot tore through bone and muscle. Teeth were shattered and embedded into the wall. The jawless woman’s legs gave out and she went down.

  Laying a foot in front of Daemon, she pushed herself up and crawled forward, her tongue dangling free and scraping the floor. Sage turned her attention to Daemon’s victim. Still laughing, she said, “Holy shit, you turned her into a fucking zombie. Better shoot her in her head.”

  Daemon thought his girl was the sexiest thing all covered in blood. He couldn’t have asked for a better woman. He racked the shotgun again and was happy to find another shell. He wanted to blast the woman’s head completely off. Pressing the barrel against her skull, he pulled the trigger and disintegrated her head. Brain, skull and flesh flew in all directions, leaving only a pulpy mess of hair.

  “Wow, that was one tough bitch,” Sage said.

  “This sure didn’t go as planned.”

  Sage turned her attention back to Dirk, who was still alive. She walked up to him and stuck her knife into his eye socket. His legs spasmed and then fell still. “Fucking guy wouldn’t die.” She pulled the knife out, wiped off the blade. “Fuck this shit-bag. He thought he could get a cheap look at my goods without consequences.” She snorted, coughed up a loogie and launched it onto the corpse’s rat-like face.

  Daemon couldn’t believe it. She was more pissed about being told to strip down to her thong than having a shotgun pointed at her head.

  Despite things turning ugly fast, truth be told, they had planned on killing Dirk once they had his weapons. Anyone witness to their criminal activities needed to die. Then there was also the need to murder. Bobby seemed much more in control of his desire to kill. Daemon guessed it was because he feared getting caught more than he or Sage did. But that was a good thing. As long as they made sure to always kill together, their chances of getting busted were greatly reduced. And Bobby had been down with killing Dirk too, but only after the guns had been acquired.

  Events didn’t always go as planned. Now that Dirk was dead, they’d have to search the man’s house for weapons. If the firearms weren’t there, they’d have to go elsewhere.

  But they had killed again. It felt wonderful. The grisly taking of life was euphoric in a way that was new and made a drug high seem like a sugar rush. Killing was the adult version of getting that new toy he’d been waiting so long for.

  Something banged against the front door. Dirk’s corpse slumped to the side from the impact. Daemon pumped a round into the gun’s chamber and aimed at the door. Sage stood ready with her knife. The door boomed again before flying open, sending Dirk’s body into the wall behind it. Bobby was there, shotgun in his hands.

  “You moron, you almost got your head blown off,” Daemon said.

  Bobby stepped inside and looked around. He stared at the headless woman. “What the hell happened?”

  “Things didn’t go as planned.”

  “Wonderful,” Bobby said, resting the shotgun on his shoulder.

  “Hey, Dirk was a jerk and he had to go,” Sage said as she shoved the knife back into her shorts pocket.

  “Where is he?” Bobby asked.

  “Behind the door,” Sage said.

  Bobby pulled the door away from the wall and looked behind it. “Oh, so that’s why it was so hard to open.”

  “Everything’s good here,” Daemon said. “Go back outside and keep an eye out.”

  “Fuck you,” Bobby said. “I get to kill whoever’s next. We can use this to our advantage. Tie it to Brewmeyer.” Make it look like a drug thing for sure.”

  “Whatever,” Daemon said. “I just want to find the guns.”

  “Well don’t take too long, we don’t need someone showing up and making things more complicated. It isn’t like Dirk doesn’t get visitors.”

  “Right.”

  Bobby left. Sage cleaned the blood off herself as best she could, leaving the towel she used in the center of the room. They searched the house, stepping on pizza boxes, over overflowing litter boxes and tossing items aside. The couch was moved. A hide was located in the floor under the rug, the space filled with bags of meth. They left it and moved to the kitchen, then the spare room where a stained mattress lay next to a desk with a computer on it. Sage quickly looked through it and found numerous records of Dirk’s drug business. It hadn’t been updated in weeks, leading Daemon to believe Dirk hadn't been right in the head for a while. His own product had ruined his mind and it was only a matter of time before someone took him out. Sage made short work of the laptop, smashing it to pieces.

  Next, they went into the bedroom and were almost afraid to touch anything. Hypodermic needles rested on the nightstand next to overflowing ashtrays. The walls were dented and scuffed as if on-going wrestling matches occurred. Various colored stains dotted the sheets and carpeting, the shaggy flooring appearing as if it had never been vacuumed. The closet was a mess of men’s and women’s clothing, both hung up and on the floor.

  From there, they found the crawlspace, pulled down the ladder and went up. The air was rank and smelled like death. Sage couldn’t deal with it and returned downstairs. Daemon breathed through his mouth, and when he pulled the lightbulb string, the place bloomed into view. A long-dead raccoon, shriveled and eyeless, lay a few feet away in a steel trap. Boxes towered all around. Searching each one would take time, time they didn’t have. Daemon would have to pick a few, then move on. The plan was to burn the place to the ground if anything went wrong—and things had clearly gone wrong. There could not be any evidence of their presence. Daemon wasn’t going to be one of those criminals who spent most of his life in prison.

  After finding nothing but junk in the first four boxes, he could no longer take the stench and left the attic, but not before finding a crowbar.

  Downstairs, he and Sage destroyed everything in their path. Sure, they could have just burned the place down and left, but it was too much fun smashing stuff and they’d hoped to find where the weapons were hidden. They even ripped open the walls, hoping Dirk had stashed his weapons there, but all they discovered was mold and sheetrock dust.

  When they were finished, they stood in the living room.

  “Too bad we weren’t into drugs,” Sage said. “We’d have hit the gold mine.”

  “Yeah, too bad…” Daemon said frustrated, then threw the crowbar at the flat screen where it embedded itself.

  “Feel better, babe?”

  “Fuck no. I’m pissed as hell. We need guns and the gun seller is dead.”

  Sage came over and pressed herself against him. She licked his lips, and when he went to kiss her back, she stopped him. Using her left hand, she unbuttoned his jeans, then slid down the zipper. “Seeing you in action really turned me on. I want you. Now.”

  Daemon’s cock stiffened as Sage’s hand rubbed the shaft. “We’re supposed to be leaving soon.”

  “A quick fuck among the corpses and I’ll be your sex slave forever,” Sage said.

  “You’re my sex slave now, woman.”

  She slapped him.

  He smiled, then spun her around and yanked down her shorts. He pulled her panties’ string to the side and shoved his hardness between her lips, rubbed the head up and down with slickness before entering her from behind. She moan
ed as he thrust. He grabbed her hair and pulled as he rammed into her. She begged for him to make her come.

  A few minutes later, they exploded together. As he pulled out, he heard the sound of an approaching vehicle.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Bobby was growing incredibly warm and bored. Trickles of sweat tickled his spine. Normally, he’d have the air-conditioning running and a game going on his cell, but having taken the battery out of the phone to keep his location private, and needing to hear if a vehicle was approaching, those options were out. He had the latest Hunter Shea novel with him, but hadn’t opened it yet. It really didn’t matter what he had brought along with him.

  He was the lookout and needed to keep his mind focused on his surroundings and his ears on the police scanner. The novel kept calling to him. He never should have brought it with him. It was a constant distraction. With things already having gone off track, he knew he couldn’t afford to take his mind elsewhere. Getting out and stretching his legs wasn’t even an option because he needed to remain ready to leave.

  If he was like Daemon or Sage he could smoke cigarettes to help pass the time, but smoking tobacco was simply idiotic, and smoking a joint was out of the question for anyone in the position of lookout.

  Turning the key in the ignition so that the power came on but engine remained off, he checked the time and saw that an hour had passed since he’d gone inside. They were taking too long. Dirk’s place might be out in the middle of nowhere, but he was a dealer of illegal items. People came and went at all hours. Hanging around wasn’t a good idea.

  He couldn’t believe how quickly Daemon and Sage had already screwed things up, then again sending two hotheads to do a deal with a paranoid meth-head had been a recipe for disaster from the start.

  With both car windows down and no breeze, he had to keep fanning himself with one of Daemon’s CDs, the man still buying them because he liked owning a physical object of his music collection. “If the file-cloud goes under, man,” Daemon said one night while they were getting high, “I won’t give a shit. All you MP3 assholes will have to buy all your shit again.” Bobby had tried explaining how that wouldn’t happen, but gave up after Daemon said old school ruled and wouldn’t stop chanting it for ten annoying minutes.