Redgrave: An Erotic Horror Read online

  I pulled open my bag, fished around for my DVD book, and pulled out a Tarantino film. I loved his brand of sarcasm. Kill Bill was the best. I wished I had the strength (and ridiculous fighting skills) of The Bride from those movies. She wouldn’t be scared in my position.

  How would Tarantino have written this situation into one of his movies?

  Probably, there’d be at least two soldiers guarding this bastard, and they’d have a long, witty conversation with some of the best dialogue written.

  Then there’d be a bunch of killing, but not in a scary way, more like an action-packed rollercoaster ride sort of way. Gory deaths with chaotic humor.

  An eyeball would probably roll across the floor at some point. Someone might step on it. Probably Samuel Jackson.

  He’s in so many fucking movies. And should be in more.

  Yeah, there’d be a lot of killing in his movie.

  Killing.

  The thought of killing brought up the thought of blood and the thought of blood made me look at the hallway window again.

  Did I just see something move?

  I swore I did. Something white moved in the window. Ignoring him seemed to be the best option.

  So what if the creep inside is awake? Let him stare out the window.

  I turned on the TV and pushed play on the DVD player, just to check if anything good was already in the machine. I imagined Sgt. Bowens watching the whole first season of M*A*S*H. Instead, the sound of a chainsaw buzzed and a lady screamed. She hung from a meat hook. I leapt off the couch and hit the stop button.

  Dammit! What’s wrong with everyone? This isn’t a scary movie kinda situation.

  The silence was too much. The clock on the wall ticked on. It wasn’t set correctly, which was one of my pet peeves. I hated having a clock around that read the wrong time. My ex used to let the one on his surround sound system blink at 12:00 all the time. I set it for him almost every time I visited his apartment, yet whenever I returned, there it was blinking again. He’d either suffered frequent power dips or he’d loved fucking with me.

  He cheated on me, banged some whore he met at the bar. Yet, what bothered me most was the blinking 12:00 on that surround sound system. I could imagine it now, blinking, 12:00…12:00…12:00, along to the sound of him moaning with some tramp riding his lap.

  Chapter 3

  My watch read 3:00. I’d been alone on the bottom floor for a long time. By now, the base club was closed and all the patrols were parked somewhere wasting the rest of the night away. No one was coming to check on me. I was on my own for sure and relief wouldn’t show up until shortly after seven. Night shift was a bitch, especially when you had to keep yourself busy. My eyes slammed shut more than once and I had to get up and pace around the room to shake off the drowsiness.

  I cursed my flight chief for telling me to leave my cell phone at home. Apparently it wasn’t cool to sit and chat all night or play games, but I could watch whatever movie I wanted. I bet Chapman had his cell phone. I was probably the only one who’d followed orders in that regard.

  My Doctor Who marathon left me zoned out and with a numb ass. I loved the show but sitting in one spot all night was tedious. I left the office and as soon as I did, I heard a low beep come from my hip. It was a familiar sound, one that brought great dread to any soldier out in the field and did the same to me right there in that hallway. My radio battery was low.

  It beeped again and I considered ripping it off my hip and bashing it against the floor. Knowing the durability of the damned things it would probably be just fine and would keep on beeping just to torment me. The things never worked correctly, but they never stopped working.

  The worst thing about a beeping radio was I didn’t know if it would completely conk out in a matter of minutes or just keep beeping like that for several hours and drive me crazy. Most of the time you’d never know until you really needed to use it, held it up to your mouth, pushed the transmit button, and heard the three audible beeps that basically said, “This radio is no longer in service so go fuck yourself.”

  So far I hadn’t needed to use the radio at all and hoped that would be the case the rest of the night.

  I tiptoed to Redgrave’s window, vowing not to be afraid to peek inside. I was a member of the armed, well at the moment, unarmed, forces and I wouldn’t allow myself to feel threated by some goofball sleeping on a cot. Reaching the rectangular window, I leaned in toward the glass and shined my light through. The toilet was there, spotless, empty. The floor was empty. The bed was…empty.

  Wait, what? Where’s Redgrave?

  My heart raced.

  The sheets had been ripped from the bed.

  I swung the flashlight beam left again and angled it down, trying to see below the door. I couldn’t.

  Holy shit. What if the prisoner, Redgrave, is sitting with his back against the door, just inches from me, with only the wall acting as a partition?

  What if he’s about to shoot up from his spot and stare me straight in my eyes? Or shove a screwdriver or something through the plastic glass and right into my eye?

  No, those were bad thoughts, cowardly thoughts.

  I stood up on my toes and tried looking down into the room, thinking maybe I’d catch a glimpse of him crouched down below the window. Maybe I’d see his socks or something.

  Nothing.

  I checked the toilet again, hoping I’d see the man squatting over the can.

  Nothing.

  I swept across the floor again. There was a pile of sheets, but nobody was hiding beneath them.

  I rushed to the door. It was sealed shut. Grabbing the handle, I yanked on it, shaking it wildly to make sure it wouldn’t budge. It was locked tight. My hand shook, trembled as I put it to my mouth.

  Where the fuck is he?

  I spun around, swinging a fist, but nobody was behind me. The prisoner had simply vanished.

  Redgrave was gone.

  This isn’t possible. God, please. This isn’t possible.

  My breath picked up and suddenly I was panting, like a dog. I shined my light beam in all directions, even up at the ceiling. Nothing.

  He’s going to jump out at me…from somewhere…and I won’t be able to stop him. I need to call for backup, but what would I say? This is crazy. How did he just disappear?

  Something nipped at my ear and I spun around again, swinging my flashlight like a baton, ready to bash in Redgrave’s skull. I expected to find him behind me, something sharp in his hand…but the hallway was empty.

  I ran to the office, but it too was empty.

  Once more, I raced to the window and shined my light into Redgrave’s room.

  Impossible.

  He was there. Redgrave was on the bed. The sheets were on tight and he had the blanket up over his head and his ankles and sock-covered feet dangling off. As the light crossed his socks, the feet jerked.

  I jumped again.

  What the fuck?

  I rubbed at my eyes to make sure I was seeing clearly. He was there, resting, just as he’d been earlier that night.

  I couldn’t have imagined it. No way. Am I losing my mind?

  The prisoner wasn’t there only moments before. Had he crawled beneath the bed just to mess with me?

  No, the bed is too close to the floor for anyone to hide under.

  Maybe he’d been in the bed the whole time and I really was losing it.

  Redgrave was there, so close, his blanketed head beneath such a thin veil of fabric. His gauze-covered head hid stitched up evil. Pure evil.

  “He was in a back room, leading some kind of satanic ritual.”

  Sgt. Bowens’ words ran through my head, over and over again. I wished I’d never asked what he’d done, wondered why he was here in confinement. That information did absolutely nothing for me…except scare the shit out of me. My overactive mind suddenly imagined this psychotic lieutenant whispering satanic chants at bedtime. He’d probably wished the dark demons of his underworld would show up, pop the lock
, and wipe me out.

  I couldn’t shake the sudden chill that ran through my body. Goosebumps rose on my flesh.

  Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep.

  I thought of other ways that prayer could be recited, more malevolent ways, more twisted versions of my childhood bedtime plea. I wondered what kind of prayer Redgrave said when the lights went out. What had he said at the rave just before carving off his own skin?

  Dark demons. Redgrave worshiped darkness and I was completely enveloped by it. Suddenly, a cold wind flowed down the hall. Not an imaginary chill but an actual breeze. It blew against the back of my neck and a stench followed. I moaned and held a hand to my nose as a gust of raw sewage nearly knocked me over.

  Did the heater kick on again?

  The dark doorways along the shadowy hallway taunted me, calling me to check them again. I knew nothing devious hid in their depths, nothing but a porcupine, but still, I couldn’t shake the sense that something was watching, peering out at me through an open door, preparing to step out from one of the thresholds and charge at me, claws at the ready.

  My radio BEEPED and I almost fell apart. I grabbed it, raised it up, and was about to throw…

  “Hey scaredy cat one, you alright down there?” Chapman’s voice screamed through the radio raised at my ear.

  My God!

  I crashed against the wall behind me and slid down to about halfway from the floor where I crouched and buried my head in my hands. The warmth of my office hideaway was at my back and the confinement cell just a few feet in front of me.

  I can’t take this anymore. I’m gonna have a heart attack. I’m going to kill Chapman.

  I squeezed my bangs, digging my nails into my roots, hoping the brief tinge of pain might bring me back to reality and help me get through this night.

  Just a few more hours. Just hang in there a few more hours.

  My eyes popped open with a fresh sense of ease and I looked up at the confinement window. White covered the window. The white gauze-covered mask was pressed up against the glass. My trembling hands fumbled with the switch on my flashlight and when I finally flipped it on, the window was empty.

  Nothing.

  For the first time, I didn’t hesitate. I rushed to the window and shined my light in. Redgrave was out cold. He was fast asleep.

  Impossible. I saw him!

  I’d seen the white gauze, as if Redgrave’s forehead was pressed to the window and he’d been trying to watch me.

  “Force Control to any post or patrol wishing to have a private conversation with another post or patrol, please refrain from using your radio and find a landline.”

  The sound of the desk sergeant humiliating Chapman in as nice a way possible, provided a little bit of reality to my daydream-like state.

  “Umm, sorry Force Control, won’t happen again,” Chapman replied.

  I locked in his radio frequency and once again went direct with him. “You have horrible timing.”

  “Movie’s over,” he said. “Was thinking maybe I could get you to come hang out.”

  By hang out you mean fuck?

  “You know that even going secure with each other can be picked up by the flight chief or other area supervisors,” I reminded him.

  “I thought I was goin’ direct with you before. This radio is all jacked up. So, can you sneak away from your babysittin’ for a little while? Ain’t ol’ Redgrave still asleep?”

  I wished I could reach through the radio and choke Chapman. Why did he insist on saying the prisoner’s name out loud? Especially when I was standing in the hallway right outside his room. Anyone sleeping would wake up if their name was shouted through a radio just a few feet away. If he only knew what I’d been going through.

  I checked through the glass and saw that Redgrave was still asleep.

  I swear to God I will never work this post again.

  I wouldn’t work the second floor or the third or even the fucking roof. I wouldn’t sit in a sedan out in the parking lot.

  “I’ll be up in a second,” I said into my radio. “My battery’s dying so I can’t chat much on this thing.

  The radio BEEPED again as if shouting a reminder at me in an unnecessarily bitchy tone.

  “Well alright,” Chapman replied. “If you need me, you know where to find me. I’m ‘bout to watch Zombie Strippers.”

  A brief pause.

  “Okay, Scaredy Cat One, this is Cowboy Roughneck Two, out.”

  Images of Chapman as some sort of trailer park rapper ran through my mind. Cowboy Roughneck. His first hit? Two Thumbs Up on the Tittie Meter. As I went on with my checks, I tried to come up with lyrics to Cowboy Roughneck’s first hit.

  “She got a booty booty, you know it bangs bangs, and her boobies boobies, they don’t hang hang.” I couldn’t help but laugh as I imagined Chapman with a cowboy hat and a big gold chain around his neck.

  ***

  My first floor checks were over quickly since I just opened each door and peeked in. The basement floor was the worst part and I decided to save those for after my meeting with Chapman. As I reached for the stairwell door, I decided it would be fun to scare him. I yanked open the door and yelled, “Argh!!!”

  Chapman jumped a little, but probably more because he had his hand down his pants than from actual fear.

  “What the hell?” he yelled.

  I wanted to yell, “I got you,” but I was drawn to his hand and the fact that his BDU pants were unbuttoned all the way.

  His boots were off and lying on the floor.

  I couldn’t believe he was jacking off right there on post, and he knew I’d be coming up at any time. He wanted me to see him. He knew I’d be turned on.

  The sound of a woman whining and rapid, wet slapping, called out to me from behind. I didn’t have to turn to figure out where the sound was coming from. I loved the sound of sex almost more than seeing it on screen. I’m not one of those chicks who’s afraid to watch porn. I like it. Thanks to one special phone app, I get to look at GIFs whenever I’m stuck on a lonely post. So the sound of a woman getting drilled from behind is quite familiar to me.

  Turning on my heels, I found the inspiration for Chapman’s self-love. A gorgeous Latina in a maid’s outfit was bent over a couch, duster still in hand, while a muscular but balding older man fucked the shit out of her.

  I sat down on the desk again, purposely refusing to look at Chapman. I was wet already. Fear and sexual tension can do a number on your sexual organs. I’d always thought it was bullshit when people have sex in scary movies. They always start fucking, knowing there’s a masked killer on the prowl. But now I completely understood how realistic it could be.

  My mind raced with the paralyzing fear I’d felt downstairs but my pussy ached to be filled. Mixed together, it was like an insane emotional cocktail. The corner of the desk dug in between my legs and touched me, putting incredible pressure on my taint, the spot where my ass ended and tender skin led to where my pussy began. I slid back against the dresser and grinded forward a little.

  On screen, the actor leaned forward, reached under, and grabbed both of the maid’s tits. He held on to them like handlebars as he rammed into her. Her ass rippled each time his thighs smacked into them. The slapping of his balls was such a turn on.

  I reached back to Chapman and felt for him. I had to lean back quite a bit to slip my hand into his pants. The waistband of his underwear clamped over my wrist as I found his semi-erect cock resting on its side.

  I took it in my hand and squeezed, enjoying the way it squished, like a stress ball meant only for me. I rubbed my thumb over the tip of his dick, feeling the grainy texture on the pad of my finger and forcing the small hole at the tip to open a bit. My thumb slipped over it, pre-cum smearing onto my hand.

  He breathed deep and blew out through his nose, hard, his silent way of gasping. He liked it.

  On screen, the maid lifted one leg up and planted it on the arm of the couch. The guy was kind of short an
d had to lift up on his toes to fuck up into her. He still held both of her tits and seeing how he gripped them was so fucking erotic.

  I felt daring. I’d been through so much already this night and I just wanted to let loose. This old building had no cameras. It was abandoned all year long and the squadron had rushed to put something together to hold Redgrave. I knew nobody was coming to visit. This early in the morning, nobody would show up. We had the rest of the shift to ourselves.