As Scot walked away his sense of danger triggered. He glanced back. Out of the night in the pale moonlight numerous dark entities were converging along his flanks like wolves ringing an elk. They ghosted closer, closing in. Scot's hand under his coat stroked his Colt 45 revolver.
By flashing cash for coke he'd made the young thugs pick him as prey. Dead ahead a new one with a gun stepped from the alley. Scot didn't hesitate. He fell flat pulling his pistol. Scot instinctively aimed and fired at center body mass. His big 45 boomed bucking in his hands, spitting a strobing muzzle flare. Scot's bullet buffeted the gunman's gut, balling him to drop on his knees and squeeze his wound.
Behind Scot dual pistols frantically fired a fusillade of shots in excited pops. Some of the lead buzzed above Scot's head. Other bullets pounded pavement pelting him with shrapnel shards. One shot grazed his ass like a hornet's sting. Despite the combat chaos and raging adrenaline, Scot lined his taped night sights on the center body mass of the nearer gunman. The barrel bucked, bellowing out a bullet as he squeezed the trigger. Scot's slug shoved the thug back to collapse on concrete gripping his lacerated lung.
The final firearm foe was jerking his trigger unleashing a swarm of shots missing Scot. Scot's bright sight swung over and landed in place as he pulled the trigger repeatedly, emptying his weapon. Two of Scot's shots plugged the thug’s pectoral piercing deep with hard hits near the heart that beat him down, dying. One of the dying man's last wild shots slashed Scot's skull and he saw a flash of light as if a lightning bolt smote his head. Desperately Scot’s adrenaline battled the blow as he tried to rise and move from the crime scene.
Above the dead men a swirling black wormhole formed. From the wormhole floated six demons. The demons were shadowy figures with glowing red eyes. Their figures resembled a cross between bipedal Cape buffalo and bears. Huge horns hooked from their heads. Spikes ran up their spines. Colossal claws and maws filled with fangs bristled. The demons reached inside the slain gangsters’ bodies and yanked out the glowing souls of the dead gangsters. The gangsters’ souls squealed and squirmed in the demons’ clutches. The demons chuckled and rumbled in terrible sounds of amusement and pleasure at the men’s anguish and terror. The demons carried the souls through the wormhole and it sealed shut behind them.
Scot rose and staggered several steps. He could feel himself fading, but feared cops catching him on the scene with the gun in hand that killed the trio. Almost as if in response to his prayer, a truck was slowly cruising past his position amongst heavy traffic. Casually Scot tossed the revolver into the open truck bed. The truck faded away with the other traffic into the night. It occurred to him the gun wasn't in his name. It was a street bought weapon. He never handled it without gloves, so his prints wouldn't be on it all in preparation for a possible night like this. A risk of robbery and homicide rolls with a dealer or heavy user during every deal.
That was his last thought before oblivion enveloped him.
Scot faked unconsciousness while detectives talked by his bedside. The doctor was telling the detectives that he'd suffered a brutal blow by the bullet ripping the side of his skull requiring 26 stitches to seal. He was heavily sedated and needed the rest. Another bullet grazing his butt took nine stitches. Then the doctor was gone. Scot could hear the detectives speaking to a uniformed cop about the crime scene. The three thug’s dead had prior armed robberies on their records. The gun that killed them hadn't been found. There was no connecting Scot to the homicides besides a gunshot residue test done on his hands that proved positive. But he could have got that from being shot. He didn't have a felony record. He was likely just an accidental shooting victim caught between rival gangs shooting at each other. The cops commented on how Scot's pockets were empty and his wallet lying nearby missing cash and credit cards. Scot almost laughed. Some gutsy guy had run over to his body, stealing his cash and dope before cops came. The thief had done him a favor.
The cops got excited suddenly. The nurse told them someone had called in a bomb threat. Anyone that could be evacuated needed to go. They went.
During the chaos Scot got up. He had on hospital pants, but no shirt or shoes. His head was heavily bandaged, but the painkillers subdued the throbbing ache it emitted. He slipped amongst the hall crowd leaving.
There was a wide woods behind the hospital and Scot ran into it using the cover to escape. As he was moving through at a half way point the pale moonlight glowed off something ahead. He moved slower trying to identify it. He was looking at a shimmering human silhouette that floated over the ground and moved through trees and brush without disturbing anything. The foggy figure was a human soul that hadn't gone into the tunnel of light when she died. He confidently walked straight at her position. She spotted him and soared close.
Now he could see more details in her soft, glowing, smoky soul. She had long dark hair and emerald eyes set in a pretty face. Her foggy figure was well shaped.
"Hello?" She greeted him looking hopeful.
"Hi." Scot smiled.
"Oh God, You see me." She said with real relief.
"I've seen earthbound souls since I was a sixteen year old kid. Got shot and briefly died. Came back seeing good souls and also evil souls that demons come to collect." He admitted. "Why didn't you go into the light when it appeared?"
"Because I was raped, tortured, and murdered by a serial killer named Glen Loll. I can't let him get away with it."
"Then why are you in the middle of these woods?"
"This is where he dumped my body."
"Show me." Scot ordered.
He followed her about fifty yards to stop over a nude woman's body. It was the ghost's body. She'd been horribly tortured with bloody whip lashes ripping her flesh open all along her back and butt. She'd been burned all over with what must have been a small torch. She was skinned open in spots from someone playing with a knife on her flesh. Her neck had clearly been repeatedly choked with bruise patterns all over. The poor girl had endured agonizing torture.
"What's your name?" He asked.
"Shelly Witt."
"Glen Loll did this to you?"
"Yes. He took me to a small garage storage place he owns just outside of town in a secluded spot. While he raped and tortured me there he showed me DVDs of other women he'd taken there to rape, torture and kill. He said they're buried there too."
"What was your connection to him?"
"I was a hooker. He'd paid me before so I thought he was safe to go with. He stuffed a rag over my face with something that stank and made me pass out. When I woke up I was cuffed on my ankles and wrists. He recorded what he did to me."
"Does he live there?"
"No. It's just a small spot with a broken down cabin and garage. I'd partied with him there a couple times."
"So you know where it is?"
"I do."
"I can call the cops for you later and tell them what's there. But for now I need to avoid cops and escape. There's a big parking lot up ahead with a lot of overnight vehicles. I need you to fly through those cars and see if any have their keys hid in the glovebox or visors. Find me some keys so I can borrow a car."
Shelly quickly agreed.
They made it to the lot and within 45 minutes Shelly found a car with a spare key under the visor. Scot smashed a window and hopped in. Moments later he was driving away.
"Do you need money and clothes?" Shelly asked observantly.
"I do."
"Loll kept a lot of cash and dope in that garage. I know where. He also kept a gun and a slot of clothes. If we went there you could grab the murder DVDs and send them to the cops with directions to his place. They'd find the bodies likely. The DVDs alone should nail him. It's only a 45 minute ride."
"What if he's there?"
"I'll fly ahead and see."
Scot didn't wait long. "Ok."
The cabin and garage were unoccupied when they arrived. Scot smashed a window and climbed in the garage. He followed Shelly's directions and put on a pair of work gloves that he found lying there before turning on the light and searching swiftly. He found over five hundred bucks cash and some cocaine and heroin. He also found the murder DVDs she told him about. The garage was set up like a torture-entertainment center for Loll's sick desires. He flipped off the light and was about to exit when she pointed out a drawer where he found a 22 revolver.
Suddenly they heard a van engine coming through the trees down the driveway.
"That's him." Shelly whispered, frightened, despite being a ghost.
"Is he usually armed?" Scot asked.
"Yes."
"Be quiet now. Don't distract me or I'll be a ghost too." He ordered and ducked down behind some boxes. He froze waiting.
Loll parked and entered his garage not even noticing that Scot had parked his stolen car behind the cabin in some trees. He didn't notice the side garage window smashed. Loll had tunnel vision walking in and flipping on the light. Scot popped up pointing a pistol at him. "Freeze. Hands up!" Scot ordered.
Loll was a tall, muscular man with average looks and pale eyes. He definitely had the butt of a pistol tucked in a clip-on belt holster near his hands. "Hands up!" Scot ordered again.
Loll tried to dive and pull his pistol at the same time.
Scot's little 22 cracked incredibly loud in the confined space. Two of Scot’s shots chewed in Lol’s chest and made a mess spraying jets of blood. Lol withered from the wallops and hunched up hurt, but still tried to finish pulling his pistol from his coat. Scot’s pistol puffed, fulminating and flaming in four more shots and the rounds downed Lol gurgling grotesquely at blood streamed from his chest to neck. Scot’s last shot had nailed Loll’s neck. Scot rushed over and kicked the dying man in the head before risking reaching under his coat to grab the gun stuck still half in the holster. Scot stepped back.
.A dark, small astral wormhole spun to life beside the dying man. From that twirling tornado stepped a trio of shadowy creatures that looked like a cross between bipedal Cape buffalo and Grizzly bears. The huge horns hooked from their heads, spikes bristled from their backs, long tails undulated behind them and they had monstrous maws and claws. Worst of all was red glowing eyes blazed from their shadowy fang filled faces. They made strange, terrifying sounds consisting of growls and rumbling language. They were immense, intense and terrifying.
The trio yanked Loll's glowing soul from his body. He screamed in pain and terror. They chuckled with amusement at his screams and struggles and pulled him through their wormhole doorway into their own dimension. The swirling dark wormhole snapped shut behind them...
"Whatever he did to you he's paying for now." Scot opined.
“Thank you so much, Scot.” She gushed with satisfaction.
Abruptly a tunnel of light beamed from the ceiling. From that glowing tunnel of light a voice called out. “Shelly! Come into the light! Don’t be afraid honey!”
“Mom?” Shelly inquired in a tremulous tone.
“It’s me honey. Don’t be afraid this is a good place. Come on honey. The tunnel won’t stay open long. Hurry!” The woman’s voice called again.
Shelly looked at Scot with trepidation. “That sounds like my mom.”
“It probably is. That’s likely heaven waiting on you, Shelly. Go while the tunnel is still open.” Scot encouraged her.
“Thank you!” Shelly blurted and flew into the light.
The light tunnel and Shelly disappeared.
Scot sighed and focused on staging the crime scene to be sure authorities found the murder tapes and to cover up his own brief presence in the place.
Bio:
Tom Kropp’s work has appeared in Chiron Review, Churches, Children and Daddies, Down in
the Dirt, The Horror Zine, Dark Harbor Magazine, Lowlife Lit, The Listening Eye, J Journal,
Evening Street Review, Conceit, Spontaneous Spirits, Freedom Fiction, Spotlight on Recovery,
Muscle and Fitness, Outdoor Life, Woodworker’s Journal and many other magazines. His play
Jailhouse Confessions was performed at the Kennedy center in Washington, DC in 2019. You
can find more of his writings at tomkropp.wordpress.com. He has many fantasy novels
published.
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