CHAPTER 26
Dave pulled into the driveway, he felt exhausted from the long drive and the days events. Every time that he had returned back to the house he would get a horrible hollow feeling in his stomach, probably half expecting that John's parents had returned from their trip. Pulling their green Mercedes into the garage, finding the Chevy pick-up missing, finding his prize hanging from their rafters. Then vomiting as they stumbled across the pools of blood and stains in their living room, which of course, was spoiling their pristine white carpet.
The house once again appeared to be vacant, but Dave already knew that he needed to remove himself from this place. It had started to give him the creeps. Maybe it was just the feeling that John's parents would find him, but maybe it was John's ghost trying to take revenge.
That's nothing but nonsense. Dave thought to himself.
Everyone knows that a ghost cannot harm a person, only scare the shit out of him or her. Ghosts are only apparitions, not flesh and blood. They are unable to touch or hold anything of substance. It didn't seem to matter, because Dave had already made up his mind. He would find some other place for Jennifer and himself to hang out at.
But first of all he needed a rest. Dave quickly did the rounds of the house, once he was satisfied that everything was as he had left it, Dave moved towards the garage. He stood at the garage connecting door, watching his darling. She seemed so peaceful, her eyes closed and a tranquil look on her face. Sleeping, I won't wake her. I could kind of do with some of that myself.
Dave headed towards the bedroom for a short afternoon siesta. He looked down at his stained clothes and his blotchy skin as he passed the open bathroom door. His skin looked liked it had some kind of red rash all over it. Dave licked a finger then wiped one of the blemishes, it came away. Nothing more than dry blood. Should probably have a shower and clean myself up a bit first. No, I am too tired, I'll have one after. It'll refresh me. Dave crawled onto the bed and within an instant he was asleep.
Dave was sitting at the dining table and John was in the kitchen cooking. Dave couldn't move at all, his legs were bound with packing tape to the legs of the chair. His hands were�� Shit! Where are my hands? They were gone. Just bloody stumps remained at the ends of each arm. His jagged bones were jutting out from the weeping, red mushy stubs. John approached the table with two plates. Each plate was covered with a stainless steel lid, just like when your breakfast turns up in a motel. John placed one plate in front of his self and in the other in front of Dave. Dave could smell the spicy aroma of his meal. Yum, curry. His favourite. John removes the lid from the plate, revealing a roasted and glazed hand sitting on a bed of rice. Dave started to gag, realising that it was one of his own hands.
"What's wrong Davie boy, have you got a weak stomach?"
Dave continued with the gagging which had become more of a dry reach. John sliced off a chunk of meat from one of the fingers and motioned to Dave to open his mouth. Dave shook his head, still trying to settle his stomach down. John grabs Dave's nose between his thumb and forefinger, forcing Dave to open his mouth. John slams the piece of flesh into Dave's mouth, and then he cups his spare hand over Dave's mouth, in an attempt to stop him from spitting out his gruesome mouthful.
"Swallow it, Davie boy. I went to a lot of trouble to prepare this for you."
Dave's gagging has become more intense, his whole body convulsing. He had to swallow or he would eventually suffocate. His lungs began to ache, a deep burning sensation deep in his chest. He could feel himself turning blue, his head started to spin. Dave swallowed, but the flesh got stuck in his throat. John released his hands, but it didn't help. Dave still couldn't breath, because his own cooked finger blocked his airway. He choked and gasped but the finger wouldn't budge. John was standing over him, staring and laughing.
Dave was covered in sweat, his pillow and sheets were soaked. His hands were tremulous, on wobbly legs he walked to the bathroom. It was nothing but a bad dream. A cool shower would do him wonders, relax his tense muscle, cool his overheated body, and clear his murky mind.
Dave stood in the shower cabinet and without looking he reached for the taps. They were warm and soft, fumbling with them until he had the temperature just right. He let go of the taps, but they wouldn't let go of him. Two small hands jutted from the wall, each with knuckles that were turning white from the pressure that they were exerting holding onto his shaky hands. He struggled with them as he noticed the warm water was now red. Its viscosity was the same as that of blood. Dave raised his head and looked at the spout, but it no longer was a spout. It was Trish's face, mouth agape and blood spurting from her perforated tongue. The glass doors and tiled walls of the cabinet were slowly moving in on him. He looked toward the floor, expecting to see the blood gushing down the floor drain. But there was no drain. The sticky fluid was rising above his unsteady knees. He wrestled with the hands that jutted from the walls, trying to turn off the steady flow, but to no avail. The little strong hands snapping off, leaving behind slippery stumps of mangled flesh. The hands released Dave's and fell into the murky red liquid, which was now lapping around his waist. He felt hands reaching down from above the cabinet, trying to grasp him. He looked up, hoping to find someone trying to pull him out and save him. But it was the girl from the lake. She was naked, her pointy breasts smeared with blood, the top of her head smashed open and grey goo dribbling down the side of her face. Her mouth open and canines ready to strike. Then there was a tug from below the liquid. The little hands had latched onto his penis and were pulling him towards its depths. Dave was screaming as his shoulders disappeared under the red veil. The naked girl above him pounced and landed on his shoulders. Her bare thighs wrapped around his head, his face buried in her wispy thatch of auburn pubic hair. He couldn't breath. The lips of her vagina were smothering his mouth. The sucking orifice was sucking his breath away. The blood that had surrounded him finally engulfed him. Then there was silence.
Dave awoke as the silence was smashed by the sound of knocking. What the hell was that all about?
Fuck me dead, I've really got to get away from this place. He sprung to his feet as he heard the sound of a second knock. Someone was at the door.
Who could it be?
Then he heard the sound of moaning and struggling coming from the garage. Dave ran towards the front door and looked through the peephole. Two men stood on the other side of the door. Each was wearing a white collared shirt and a black tie. Fucking religious freaks! He heard Jennifer moaning again, it was loud.
Was it loud enough for the two guys to hear?
He couldn't risk it.
But how am I going to handle taking out two guys at the same time?