Redgrave: An Erotic Horror Read online

  What if I open this door and Redgrave is standing on the other side, glaring at me, with the skin from Chapman’s face dangling in his hand?

  I forced the thought from my mind. I shined my light once more around the main room, checking to my left, my right, behind me, and even up top at the ceiling. The prisoner was nowhere in sight. He had to be inside the room. I closed my eyes for a second to steady my nerves. Then I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  The light was dull yellow, as if ready to burn out at any moment. The walls were just like they were everywhere else in the building, cracked and rusty and threatening to crumble soon. Broken showerheads clung to the walls at random intervals. Many were missing, leaving only holes where they’d once been.

  The floor was multicolored. The original grey, rusty brown, and a darker brown all blended together in streams. I imagined some of it to be old, dried blood. All the colors seemed to revolve around a drain at the center of the room. The only other object in this dilapidated bathroom was a strange, old-fashioned bathtub against the far wall. Redgrave was nowhere in sight.

  I didn’t want to enter the room. The door was unlocked but I was afraid it would somehow slam shut behind me and I’d be locked in the room forever. With nothing else around to lodge in the door, I was left with only my flashlight and my bat. There was no way I was letting go of that bat. The flashlight became my door jam.

  I crept into the room.

  Redgrave had to be lying in the tub. I couldn’t see inside it from where I stood but I knew. He was in there just lying back, waiting for the right time to pounce, and I was going to make the first move this time.

  I squatted down and held my bat out in front of me.

  Comfortable the door wouldn’t slam shut, I took a step deeper into the room and held my table leg up like a baseball player waiting for the next pitch. As I passed the first showerhead, I looked down at the drain and couldn’t help wondering what kind of shower I was standing in. What could the military have used the room for?

  Stop it. Concentrate.

  I shimmied forward one step at a time, suddenly aware that I might be fighting for my life at any moment. Nothing seems real until it finally is. This was real. The brave façade dissipated, and I was left standing timidly in the cold shower room.

  I’d reached the tub, or at least close enough to look inside, but I was afraid to peer into it. I didn’t know what I was more afraid of, looking in and finding the killer, or looking in and not finding him. I wanted the game to be over, but what did that mean?

  It meant someone would die. And it could be me. I shuffled on a couple of more steps and could see inside the tub, just a little. It looked empty, but it was possible the prisoner was just lying really flat.

  I stepped forward two more steps. It was empty. The nasty, rusty tub was full of broken electronic equipment, but the prisoner wasn’t there.

  I felt him before I saw him. The hairs on my arms stood up, my spine tingled, and my chest felt like I’d inhaled harder than I should and held the breath there, burning my lungs.

  Evil was in the room.

  This was different from before. I thought I’d felt Redgrave’s presence before. This was something stronger…and I knew I’d gone too far.

  I could feel my own death looming ahead.

  Turning slowly, I saw Redgrave’s boots at eye level. Then his camouflaged pants and the bottom of his light blue gown. He was lowering himself from the ceiling.

  I couldn’t move. Whether by supernatural force or my body’s own unwillingness to budge, I was frozen in place.

  The prisoner’s boots hit the floor with a thud, and I found myself staring eye to eye with Milo Redgrave. His gauze-covered face was big, as if wrapped in too much material. His eyes were bloodshot, one brown and one green, and they shook in their sockets, trembling slightly with dark energy.

  I couldn’t look away. I was fixated.

  And then I felt the blade plunge deep into my gut.

  Again.

  And again.

  My head pitched forward and fell onto his shoulder, resting there, my breath coming in painful sobs. I looked down and saw the handle of the hunting knife being rammed into my stomach.

  The name CHAPMAN was carved into the handle. The one man who’d been smart enough to sneak in a weapon had lost it in the worst possible way.

  Then the blade was ripped from my stomach and in a flash, I felt my throat split open and my blood spill down my chest. Then all was dark.

  Chapter 5

  My eyes shot open and my arms were flailing as I fell off the couch. I checked my stomach with my left hand while my right shot up to my neck. No blood. No guts all over the floor.

  I was okay. I was alive. It had been a dream, just a lousy nightmare. I was in the office, alone.

  Where’s that music coming from?

  I looked up from the floor to see the title screen from my Freeway DVD playing over and over again. I breathed deep and enjoyed the feel of the dusty air in my lungs. It was much better than the coppery tang of my own blood, a taste that seemed so real only moments before.

  I stood and brushed myself off. The DVD loop was driving me crazy. As I pressed the power button to shut it up, I heard a loud POP from outside the building, and the world went dark with the VOOM of an instant power drain.

  Finally the music quit, but so did everything else, and I was plunged into silence and darkness. My eyes and ears adjusted slowly, or adjusted the best they could. The blackness was so thick I couldn’t see my own hand in front of my face and the silence left an odd ringing in my ears.

  What the hell is going on? Is this another dream?

  I pinched my cheek and it hurt.

  But the knife in the gut didn’t feel so hot either, and that was a dream, right? Maybe I’m in another…

  No, I was awake. The power had just gone out. That happened all the time in old buildings. This building probably hadn’t been used for ages when my squadron took it over less than a week ago. That’s all it was, just a simple power outage.

  Minus sight, my other senses were on full alert, and the sound of wood shattering in the hallway was unmistakable. I fumbled for my flashlight, found it, and turned it on. A narrow, faint tunnel shined on the doorway of the office. Everything beyond was hidden in darkness.

  You’ve been in the dark all night. Just calm down. Think. Don’t make this into something it isn’t.

  But this wasn’t just an ordinary power outage. I knew that. And, yes, I’d been in the dark all night, but nothing like this.

  Only one more hour till your relief shows up. Hang in there.

  Again, staying in the office didn’t seem like such a bad idea. I’d already gotten hit in the head with a skillet. Instinctively, my hand raised to feel the tender spot on my head, but it was gone. That too had been part of the dream.

  For a moment, to calm my nerves, I tried to remember what hadn’t been a dream. What was reality? Chapman was reality. I’d made love to Chapman upstairs earlier in the evening. That was real. The soreness between my legs wouldn’t let me forget it.

  My light lingered on the doorway as I hesitated and brought up old memories. Maybe I was just being paranoid. The smashing sound could have just been the irate, or maybe even frightened, prisoner trying to get my attention. After all, he was just a man asleep in his bed.

  Covered in the blanket of pitch black, I wished the sun would come up, but this was Alaska. Winters meant long nights. At this point in the year, the sun wouldn’t be up until about 10am.

  Seeing Redgrave asleep would calm my nerves, and if by some crazy chance the prisoner had escaped, at least I would be aware of it. The building was so fucking dark. I stayed inside the office and shined my light out, focusing the funnel on the office doorframe then escaping into the hallway, where it met the opposing wall. The light drifted over Redgrave’s window to his door.

  No.

  The prisoner’s door was smashed open.

  The frame was splint
ered.

  The door had been shattered at the lock.

  As I approached, I heard footsteps. Someone stepped out of Redgrave’s room, but it wasn’t the prisoner. The flashlight traced over black combat boots, black fatigue pants, and a long, black trench coat. I moved the light up to the neck and head. A lump grew in my throat as my eyes fixed on the figure’s face.

  He wore a mask of human skin.

  The fleshy disguise hung loosely from his cheeks and looked to be stapled in place with large, black metal fasteners. The mouth of the stolen face was stretched open in a hideous grin. Below the second face was all black, like the madman wore a cover that gave even his eyes a dark, pit-like appearance.

  The masked man stared at me, his head cocked to one side, as if wondering what I might do.

  Behind him, Redgrave stepped out, also wearing a mask. A skinned face covered his gauze.

  I recognized the face.

  Chapman.

  But it had been a dream.

  Redgrave wore my lover’s face like a kid’s Halloween costume. The mouth was even stretched open into a forced smile, stapled at the corners. Blood-stained white cloth stuck out from the top and sides of the skin mask.

  Redgrave stepped confidently out of his cell, and as he looked me in the face, I couldn’t help remembering Chapman’s goofy grin and wild attitude. Now he was being used as a decorative covering, satanic casing for the evil figure being led out of his confinement cell.

  The first man handed Redgrave a knife. I recognized it from my dream. It was a hunting knife and the name Chapman was carved into the handle.

  I stood there watching them like some sort of spectator. Nothing I could say or do was going to change what was happening and somehow I thought if I just stayed quiet I might make it out of this alive.

  Both men stared right back. A whistle from the other end of the hall drew my attention that way. Keeping my light beam focused on the two felt dangerous, like seeing a robber’s face and knowing that meant you had to die. But at the same time, I couldn’t take my light away from them. Sudden movement might cause them to strike.

  Slowly, I moved my flashlight beam to the left and saw two more figures walking toward us. As they moved closer, and my flashlight washed over them, their faces came into view, and I saw that they too wore masks of human skin.

  I had nowhere to go and no weapons to defend myself. I could only stand by and watch as the four stood only an arm’s length away. The masked man closest to Redgrave nodded, then gestured that they should get going. Redgrave stared at me for a moment through Chapman’s face, the white gauze beneath pocked with red, wet blotches.

  Through the pits of the Chapman mask, I saw the madman’s real eyes, not the shimmering red from earlier. One was brown and the other green. He blinked and then turned and followed the other three down the hall.

  They reached the doorway at the end of the corridor before I finally willed myself to move. They’d allowed me to live when they could’ve easily murdered me and stolen my face.

  Death suddenly didn’t seem as scary, not compared to the idea of having my skin snipped from my body.

  To chase them down would be ludicrous, so I waited, giving them enough time to get out of the building. Then I followed, hoping to at least see which direction they’d headed. I stepped out into the stairwell and immediately felt the cold blast of wind howling in from outside.

  They’d smashed out two of the windows. I carefully approached and leaned forward to get a look outside. The snow was coming down hard, leaving a mysterious veil to cover the fleeing cult. Their footsteps were already filling in. They’d be gone in no time. Long before my relief could show up.

  Through the blanket of hazy frost, I saw them, side by side, three figures fading in the white dust.

  Wait, three?

  I strained my eyes to get a better look, praying I’d made a mistake. Yes, there were only three.

  The force of the blade ramming into my spine hit me first. Vicious, inconceivable pressure.

  Then the pain.

  The knife was yanked up. Slicing my skin, tearing through muscle, grading my bones as the blade shredded its way up my back, sawing back and forth.

  The pain came on so sudden that I nearly passed out. It felt like my soul was being ripped from my body, piece by agonizing piece.

  My legs shook.

  Urine ran down my legs.

  I tried to look behind me, but I was skewered. My body convulsed and then I didn’t feel anything. My arms were cold, my ears were numb, and I felt my body getting yanked around like a ragdoll as Redgrave carved me up.

  I was paralyzed.

  When I coughed, blood sprayed from my mouth.

  I’d made a grave mistake. I couldn’t see my reaper, but I knew it was Redgrave. In an odd way, I’d thought he liked me for some reason. That he might let me live.

  He’s going to take my face. Will I feel that?

  My body collapsed over the window frame. The shards of jagged glass impaled me. I’d always thought death came much quicker.

  As I rested against the windowsill, staring out at the world in front of me for the last time, I watched as the other three turned and looked back. They were too far to see clearly, but I knew they were there, standing in a row, watching the life drain from my body.

  I looked down and saw my puddle of blood melting the frost that had caked at the base of the building. I looked up once more at the row of killers. There was no light. The lights at the dormitories were out. Those lights were never out. Not when it was dark out.

  I realized all was dark on the base. Not a single light was in sight. What had Milo Redgrave and his cult done? How many of these sickos were there? Could they have killed everyone on the military installation?

  I gasped, desperate for air. Suffocation took hold as blood exited my mouth and refused to let me inhale.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Redgrave’s face look out the window, over my shoulder, as if to say, “Look what we’ve accomplished.”

  I was dying. Milo Redgrave had won the game.

  I wheezed with each bloody struggle to inhale, knowing I may have just let the men who’d wiped out my entire base walk right out of confinement and into the rest of the world.

  A sort of peace spread over my panic as I concentrated on one word.

  Evil. Evil is too pretty, too simple a word to convey all it holds within its meaning. You know what the Bible says: Love knows no limit to its endurance, no end to its trust, no fading of its hope, and it can outlast anything. Evil has much of the same qualities and it spreads like a sickness. Looking out over this snowy field, my breath coming in short gasps, I could see evil making its way into the darkness around me. Thinking back, the night seemed so long. Endless almost.

  And then it ended.

  The End.

  Stay tuned for the next Carver Pike horror or dark fantasy. If you happen to like erotica, you should check out my other pen name, Chris Genovese, where I write everything from erotic romance to erotic comedy to erotic poetry.

  If you want to know what else is on its way from Carver Pike or Chris Genovese, check out http://www.eroticmayberry.com.

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  Thanks for reading!

  Carver Pike

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