Dave Zeltserman - Bad Thoughts

Winters, using Shannon’s broken fingers, forced Shannon into the dining room. Lying in a corner was what looked like a pile of raw meat. Up close it was a human body. Even though most of the skin had been removed, Shannon was able to recognize his partner. He tried to twist around to get at Winters, but Winters applied more pressure to his broken fingers. The pain forced Shannon to his knees.

“I’ve been as busy as a bee today,” Winters whispered casually. “His cousin, or at least most of her body, is upstairs. She came home as I was finishing up with my whittling. Your wife had the best seat in the house for both killings.”

Winters moved closer until his breath was hot against Shannon’s ear. “Look at him,” he ordered. “Want to guess how painful it must be to be skinned alive? I’d have to think it would be a hell of a lot worse than only having your fingers broken. He took it like a man, Billy Boy. No screaming, no crying. You really ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

“You’re nothing but a fucking psycho.”

“It doesn’t matter what I am. What matters is I got you on your knees cowering because of a couple of broken fingers. And I got your wife tied up and ready for action. Put your other hand behind your back. Now.”

Winters worked on his broken fingers until Shannon complied. Then Winters tied his hands together, binding the rope tightly around both broken fingers. The throbbing from his fingers went all the way up his shoulder. It was like nails had been driven into his bones. Winters grabbed him by his injured fingers and forced him back to his feet and into a chair. He pulled up a chair opposite Shannon.

“For years I planned on skinning you like that,” Winters said.

It was the first time Shannon had actually seen him. For the most part, Winters looked as he did in the dreams. He had the same slit mouth, and under it, nothing. It was as if a hatchet had been taken to his face, cutting off anything below his razor-thin lips. His skin color, though, was more waxy than pale. Maybe even a bit jaundiced. And his eyes were more sick than dead.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this little face-to-face,” Winters said.

“God, are you ugly,” Shannon intoned in a low, guttural voice. “You even look worse than you smell.”

Winters’s eyes dulled a bit. “Another comment like that,” he said, “and I go into the other room and cut off one of your wife’s appendages. Maybe a finger, maybe something else. Understand, you little fuck?

“Also,” Winters added after waiting for a response, “you try anything stupid and the same thing happens. She loses a piece of her. My choice which piece.”

“You have no chance in getting away with this-”

“I know that,” Winters acknowledged. “I’ll be caught and I’ll grow old in prison. It’s a fate I’ve accepted. Just as I’ve accepted instead of killing my victims, I’ll only be able to slip into their dreams and torment them. But that’s much later. After tonight, anyway.”

“Just get this over with,” Shannon said. “I’m tired of listening to you and I’m tired of smelling you.”

“No. I’ve waited a long time for this, Billy Boy. A very long time. We’re going to have a nice little chat first, and then we’ll have all night to do the things we need to do. And please, don’t try to pretend you don’t care.”

“I really don’t anymore.”

“Of course you do. After all the things I’ve done to you? And your wife lying in the other room helpless?” Winters nodded slowly, a dull glint in his eyes. “You care, Billy Boy.

“Now,” Winters continued, “let me tell you what I originally planned for you. Because what I settled on is so much better. I want you to fully appreciate it.

“It was going to be similar. I was going to show up in your dream and tell you I was with your wife. I was going to give you an address. Same as what I’ve already done. Except the address was going to be for a young, sweet little coed and FBI Agent Swallow would be fervently waiting there for you. The reason he’d be waiting for you is because I’ve been visiting him in his dreams, telling him that you’d be killing this sweet, little girl next. Of course, by then, he’d also know the carving knife used on your redheaded bitch therapist came from your apartment.

“The whole case would be circumstantial, but you’d be found guilty of my murders. And you’d spend the rest of your life in prison, or at best, an insane asylum. And I’d be there every night, visiting you in your dreams.”

“Too bad the case against you broke,” Shannon said.

“Not really. Because what I’ve improvised is really much sweeter. Have you figured it out yet?”

Shannon didn’t answer. As his hands shifted, the rope pulled tighter around his fingers, driving the imaginary nails deeper into his bones. His body stiffened as the pain immobilized him.

A smugness twisted Winters’s small, bloodless lips. “I think you got it. Any questions before we get started?”

“Go to hell.”

“Come on. You must have some curiosity. Haven’t you at least wondered how I slip into your dreams?”

“Okay, I’ve wondered about that.”

“It’s because I’m a god. At least, spiritually. My body might bleed and break, just like Herbie’s did, but inside I’m a god. And tonight you are going to suffer my wrath like no one ever has.”

Shannon couldn’t keep from laughing. “A little full of ourselves, are we? You, a god? Jesus. You’re nothing but a freak.”

The skin around Winters’s mouth tightened and a light pink flushed his cheeks. He moved quickly out of his chair, slapping Shannon hard across the face with an open palm. The blow sent Shannon and his chair tumbling to the floor. Winters reached down and grabbed him by both his hair and his broken fingers and jerked him to his feet.

“Enough chitchat,” Winters whispered from behind. “We got a busy night ahead of us.”

Winters forced Shannon back to the kitchen and to the table Susan was tied to. Using the carving knife and holding Shannon’s broken fingers, Winters cut the rope tying Shannon’s hands together. He then twisted Shannon’s broken fingers until he heard an audible gasp, and then he slapped the knife’s handle into Shannon’s free hand.

“You know what you’re going to do,” Winters breathed into Shannon’s ear.

Shannon tried swinging the knife around, trying to get at Charlie Winters’s thick body, but Winters simply applied more pressure on the broken fingers until Shannon collapsed against the table, the side of his face resting on Susan’s stomach. He couldn’t help noticing how cold her skin felt. As he was pulled away from her, he saw the fear in her eyes, the wetness around her cheeks. Anger swelled up within him. He tried to swing the knife around and again was forced to collapse against the table.

“Is that the best you can do?” Winters asked. “Gawd, are you a weak, little shit.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Shannon breathed through the pain.

“Is that so?”

More pressure was applied to his injured fingers. The pain sucked the breath out of him. From behind he could hear a wheezing laugh ooze out of Winters. The pressure continued. The pain seemed to build on itself, becoming something unbearable.

Shannon looked into Susan’s eyes. He told her that no matter what was done to him, he would not hurt her. “And I won’t let this sack of human garbage hurt you, either.”

More wheezing laughter came from behind. The pressure increased.

“I would take the dish rag out of her mouth so the two of you could talk, but I’m afraid she would scream. Even though she’d know I’d have to kill her, she’d still scream. I don’t think she could help it. But you can talk, Billy Boy. Why don’t you tell her how my cousin had you whimpering like a baby and pissing in your pants?”