Jeff Strand - Casket For Sale

"Oh, his wife, was it? Well, at least you took care of the problem. Please, direct me to her corpse so I can spit on it."

"Mr. Burke-"

"I'm 'Sir' to you right now."

"Sir, it wasn't our fault."

"Oh, I'm glad to hear that. I can only assume the hand of God Himself reached down and pulled her to safety."

Medusa handed the gun she'd taken from Roger to Mr. Burke.

"This is one of yours," he said, glancing down at the weapon.

"Yes, sir."

"Have we decided to start arming our victims? Is that it?"

"No, sir."

"Let me explain something to you, Goblin. I do not like being forced to micromanage what you are doing out here. When I am forced to leave my lab to clean up your messes, it wastes my time and causes me to become extremely annoyed. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"From what I understand of this ill-fated project, there were six people in the camper you ambushed. How many of them did you bring to me?"

Goblin was silent.

"How many?"

"None."

"How many of their corpses did you bring to me?"

"None."

"And how many of them were young, helpless children?"

"Sir, I-"

"Answer the question."

"Two."

"Two young children. And yet through your incompetence, your staff has now been reduced by forty percent. I don't like that kind of attrition, Goblin."

"I'm sorry."

"In fact, there's very little I do like at this moment. I'm terminating this branch of the project, effective immediately."

Goblin didn't bother to protest.

I desperately tried to make my body work… any part of it… but I remained a human statue.

Mr. Burke furrowed his brow. "Is that Ghoul's body?" he asked, pointing at the corpse by the side of the road.

"Uh, no," Goblin admitted. "It's Charlie."

"They killed Charlie, too?"

Goblin started to nod, but then apparently thought better of the lie. "No, sir, we did."

"We?"

"Troll and I."

Troll shifted uncomfortably.

"You murdered one of our accomplices?"

"Yes, sir."

"Would it be terribly inconvenient if I asked you why?"

"He wouldn't shut up."

"I see. He did like to ramble on. So essentially, you're telling me that under your management, excessive talking is an infraction punishable by death, correct?"

"Sir, we weren't thinking straight."

"That doesn't matter. As a good manager, I have no doubt you accept full responsibility for your actions. And you're telling me you consider excessive talking a fatal offense, correct? One worth terminating a member of your own team?"

"He wasn't really part of the team."

"A vendor, then. You'd terminate a vendor for excessive talking. That does leave me to wonder about the appropriate punishment for a manager who screwed up a project so badly it left two of his associates dead and none of his goals achieved."

Now Goblin seemed close to tears. "Sir, please, I'll go after the woman and children myself. I'll personally bring them to you, I swear."

"And you'll bring Ghoul, Ogre, and Charlie back to life?"

Goblin seemed unsure how to respond.

"How about just Ogre? If you'll bring Ogre back from the dead, perhaps I'll show you some mercy."

"Sir, I can't-"

"I don't like to hear the word 'can't,' Goblin. You know that."

"Just give me one more chance."

"I don't think so. Consider yourself downsized."

Medusa swiftly removed the dart gun from her purse and fired a shot into Goblin's neck. He dropped to the ground.

Mr. Burke crouched down next to Goblin. "Enjoy the lack of sensation while you can. I am going to make you hurt so badly, you'll wish your mother had been skinned alive by your father before they had a chance to conceive you."

Troll looked terrified. Mr. Burke stood up and glared at him. "I'm not going to hold you responsible for the incompetence of your supervisor," he said. "But understand me, if you screw up again, you will not find the pain pleasurable."

"Yes, sir," said Troll, visibly relieved.

Witch walked into my line of sight, legs wobbling a bit. "Sir, I am so very sorry."

"I'm not impressed by apologies," said Mr. Burke. "And I'm particularly unimpressed by employees who are kidnapped by their own prey. I'll decide your fate within the next two minutes."

Witch lowered her eyes and nodded.

"Now, let's see about tying up some of our loose ends, shall we?" Mr. Burke unclipped a walkie-talkie from his belt, turned a dial, and then pressed the black button on the side. "Is anybody there?"

"Who is this?" I heard Helen say.

"This is Officer Trevor Clemens from the Georgia State Patrol. We've managed to subdue the assailants who attacked you and your family, but your husband has been very badly injured. Could you give us your location?"

"What happened to him?" Helen sounded frantic.

"He's been cut. He's been cut bad, ma'am. We can't move him until the ambulance gets here. Are you near the road?"

"I'm… I'm not sure," Helen admitted.

"Are you lost?"

"I think so."

"That's not a problem, ma'am. We'll get you out of there. Do me a big favor and give us a shout, okay?"

A moment of silence.

I wanted to scream for her to remain quiet, but I couldn't move my lips.

"Let me talk to him," Helen said.

"Ma'am, he's unconscious and losing blood fast. I'm not trying to scare you, and I promise we're doing everything we can, but he may not have much time left."

"Shout out to me," said Helen. "I'll follow your voice."

Mr. Burke lowered the walkie-talkie. " Helloooooooooo !" he shouted. He lifted the walkie-talkie to his mouth again. "Did you hear that?"

"No. God, we must have gotten turned around somehow."

Mr. Burke reached down and picked up Goblin's gun. He fired it into the air. "What about that?"

"Yes, I heard it."

"Are we close?"

"No, but that helped. I know which direction to go at least."

"Then hurry. Get here as quickly as you can. We'll send a search party after you if you're not here by the time reinforcements arrive."

He released the button on the walkie-talkie, and then turned to Troll. "I assume your truck is still in working condition?"

Troll nodded.

"Did you suddenly turn into a mute?"

"No, sir. I mean, yes, sir. The truck works, sir."

"Then put everybody in the back. Including your ex-supervisor."

"Yes, sir."

Troll put his hands underneath Goblin's arms and dragged him toward the truck. He seemed very pleased to be doing it.

Mr. Burke knelt down next to me. "Creepy, isn't it? Not being able to move like that? I tested it out on myself once and it freaked me out."

"Oh, shit!" Troll exclaimed as he reached the truck.

"What?"

"The signal just went off. Somebody's coming. Same direction that you came."

"Busy little road today. But that's fine. Without incompetent management running the show, we should be able to take care of them without much effort. Medusa, Witch, I want our three test subjects propped up against the truck," Mr. Burke said. "Based on what they've seen so far, they probably think we're all bumbling idiots, a joke. I want them to see very clearly that we are no joke."

Medusa and Witch dragged me to the truck. I was unable to feel a thing as I slid over the dirt.

Within a couple of minutes, Roger and Samantha were sitting next to me.

I had to do something to save the people who were coming, but what? I couldn't even wiggle a toe.

It seemed like hours before the car, a small white sedan, arrived. It stopped behind the limousine.

Mr. Burke walked over to them. "Hi there," he said, as the driver rolled down his window. "We've had a bit of bad luck and I was wondering if we could get your assistance."

"Of course," said the driver, a cheerful-looking blonde guy in his late thirties. He was badly sunburnt and wearing sunglasses. "What's the problem?"