Twisted Endings 3: Children of Blood Read online

  TWISTED ENDINGS 3

  CHILDREN OF BLOOD

  Timothy D. McLendon

  ©2014

  For my son Zander Blaze,

  Life is full of mysteries. I’ll help you figure them out — when you’re older. Mommy won’t let you read my books.

  BOOKS BY TIMOTHY D. MCLENDON

  Last Hero

  Twisted Endings

  Twisted Endings 2

  Twisted Endings 3

  Contents

  Fresh Fragrances

  The Amazing Mr. Whiskers

  Shoot To Live

  Don’t Let Her Die

  Fresh Fragrances

  I DON’T know where I am. I’m sitting in a cold steel chair. My hands are bound behind me with rope that’s ripping the skin off my wrists. My eyes are covered with a sweaty bandanna that smells like sulfur. I feel like I’m choking because my throat won’t move up or down.

  “Do you believe?” a young boy shouts next to me. He’s speaking to someone in front of us.

  I feel a whoosh and hear a clamor of feet. “We believe! We believe!” It’s dozens of voices, maybe a hundred.

  Someone behind me is untying the bandanna. My eyes are burning from the explosion of light. I can’t see the people out there — the believers. What do they want with me?

  “Do you believe, Jake?” He’s got a hand on my shoulder like he’s concerned. I can see by the outline of his body that he’s about 12 years old.

  My tongue is numb, like it’s been injected with lead. But my vision is coming back. There is a crowd of children in front of me; boys and girls, young and old, red and yellow, black and white. They’re on a lower level than me — I must be on a platform or stage. Behind them is a line of adults in black robes with their faces hidden like monks.

  One of the robes is wading through the crowd of children. He’s heading straight for me, at the same pace as a wedding procession. All of the children are cheering for him. The noise they’re making is deafening.

  The robe just stopped by my feet and is pulling something from under his arm. He’s handing the object up to the boy. The boy snatched it and is waving it at the crowd.

  They’re roaring now.

  I see the 12 inch blade when he turns back toward me. I want to scream, to tell him to stop. My heart is beating so fast I can’t breathe. I’ve been drugged or my spinal cord has been broken. I can’t move or even make a sound.

  On my left I see a familiar face. It’s my assistant from Fresh Fragrances, David. He’s come to save me! I’m going to be okay! He doesn’t see me, though. He’s kneeling by a ten gallon bucket of water and pouring something into it. It looks like a red or pink dye from here.

  The boy has his hands out to quiet the crowd. “My brothers and sisters, we are gathered here to celebrate life.” He’s looking at me again. “And death.” I can see his face clearly now. He’s just an innocent kid with ocean blue eyes and wavy blonde hair. He wouldn’t hurt me. Would he?

  He’s holding the blade in front of him, pointed down. He’s taking small steps toward me. There’s a crooked smile on his face, like he’s done this before and can’t wait to do it again.

  I’m praying I pass out. I have never felt this much fear.

  He’s hovering over me now. The blade is just inches above my right thigh. “There’s power in the blood!” he shouts back at the crowd.

  “Power in the blood! Power in the blood!” The children are all shouting and cheering again. They’re pumping their fists in the air while they chant. “Power in the blood! Power in the blood!”

  The boy is raising the blade over his head with both hands. He’s thrusting it back down to my leg with all of his strength.

  I’m trying to scream in pain. He’s shoved it all the way through my thigh. I have never felt anything like this. Oh my God! He’s twisting the knife!

  Blood is shooting out of my leg. He won’t stop twisting the damn blade. Son of a bitch!

  He’s yanking the bloody blade out of my leg now. I want to cry, scream — anything! I see something in the boy’s eyes — it’s the look of the devil. He’s raising the blade over his head again. Oh God! No! No!

  He’s shoved the blade into my other leg and is twisting it again. My veins and arteries and muscles are being torn to shreds. I’ll never walk again. I want to slip away. Dying would be better.

  He’s taken the blade out again and is dancing in front of the crowd. They’re all hooting and hollering, like this boy is a champion. Now I realize they won’t be happy until I’m dead. But why? I don’t know any of them. I’ve never seen them before — none of them but David.

  David is standing in front of me now. He’s got that bucket of water gripped in his right hand. The water is red, like blood. It’s only half full and I wonder if he’s going to fill the rest with my blood. Why is he a part of this? He’s my trusted assistant.

  But now that I think about it, I’ve seen him grow unhappy over the last few months since I purchased the soap store. The previous owner, Johnson, died the day after selling the business to me. It seems like he had accomplished everything in life he was supposed to, and he was ready to leave it all behind. David is lost without him. And he doesn’t like the changes I’ve made.

  The blade is cutting through my right shoulder now. I don’t feel pain anymore. I’d be in shock if my body could respond to anything. The room is getting darker. My head is hanging down. I see my blood all over the floor. This is the end, and I’m happy for it. I’ll get to see my Samantha again.

  David just put a hand under my chin and he’s holding my head up. “Not yet.” He’s taking a step back. He’s swinging the bucket. I see the bloody water from the bucket flying at my face and body.

  I’M LYING in bed wide awake. Was I asleep? Was I dreaming? Ever since I purchased the soap store I’ve been having crazy dreams like that. I always end up hurt or dead in them. The alarm clock on my nightstand says it’s 2 o’clock in the morning. I’m covered in sweat and refuse to look at my body. I don’t know if I can move and I’m too scared to find out.

  I’m staring at the picture of me and Samantha next to the clock. We’re sitting on the hood of my car, laughing. I’ll never forget what happened that day when me and my Samantha drove home from the ice cream shop. The police said the driver in the truck coming toward us fell asleep at the wheel.

  I can’t think about this anymore. I’m sitting up in the bed and turning over the picture of me and Samantha. So much for getting over my insomnia. This is going to be a long night.

  I’m reaching for my jeans and t-shirt on the floor. I’ll just head to the overnight diner and talk with Sasha for a bit. She always keeps the coffee warm and carries a good conversation.

  My clothes are wet. What the hell? I can barely see them in the dark so I’m turning the table lamp on.

  I can’t breathe. I wasn’t asleep. I wasn’t dreaming.

  I’m running my hands over my legs and shoulders. Thank God everything is here. My clothes are full of holes and covered in blood.

  A SMALL bell chimes overhead when I open the door to Fresh Fragrances. The cool air inside saves me from the summer heat. Jasmine and cinnamon annihilate my senses as I walk through the door. The banner on the front display window announces the grand reopening. I had the name changed from Soap Suds the day after I bought this place. The old name was archaic and had been the name for more than 50 years.

  The store was on the brink of destruction when I purchased it. I remodeled the shop and brought in all new products like shampoo, perfume, and candles. Customers are coming in that have never heard of the place before.

  Two ladies are waiting at the cash register on my l
eft. David’s not here — I don’t know why I expected him to be. He’ll probably never show his face here again after last night. I hope he doesn’t. I have no idea how to face him and find out what happened.

  “I’ll be with you in just a moment, ladies.”

  The first lady is sighing and rolling her eyes. She looks to be about 18 years old. She’s got bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and our most expensive perfume in her hands. The other lady looks 25. She’s got a baby boy in a stroller by her side. Her arms are full of candles and a bottle of bubble bath.

  I’m walking into the back office and looking around for David. The 13 inch TV on my desk is showing the morning news. David’s not here but he obviously opened the store. I know where he is if he’s still here — in the basement making that damn soap no one buys. No wonder this place was going out of business.

  “I hope you found everything you need,” I say to the ladies as I walk back up front and step behind the cash register.

  The first lady slammed her credit card on the counter and now she’s giving me a look that says What the hell took you so damn long?

  I’m ringing up her items, putting them in a bag, sliding the card and say, “Is there anything else I—”

  She snatched the card from my hand and is grabbing the bag off the counter. She’s shaking her head and rushing out the door. “I’m never coming here again.”

  I might have to fire David if he’s here. But not yet. I’ve got to find out what happened last night. I’ve got a million and one questions that scare and excite me.

  I hear the other woman at the counter clearing her throat. “I’m so sorry,” I say. “We’re a little short on help today.”

  “It’s not a problem,” the woman says, shaking her head. “I’ll try not to bite your head off.” She’s smiling at me and chuckling. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

  I’m staring at her and trying to remember. She’s beautiful, with emerald eyes and short blonde hair. You would never know she had a baby recently. Definitely out of my league. “I’m sorry.”

  She’s blushing. “It’s okay. I don’t know why I thought otherwise. We met at the Conley Sleep Center.”

  I remember now. We had only talked for a few minutes that day. She was very pregnant. “Myra?” She’s nodding her head and smiling. I’m leaning over the counter and looking into the stroller. “Is that Little Joe?”

  “You remember.” She’s picking him up and holding him in her arms now. “Say hi to Mr. Jake.”

  “Hi there, Little Buddy,” I say to the kid. Samantha and I had always wanted a kid but were unable to have one. I love babies and little children. I’m looking at Myra again. “How’s your husband doing?” I’ll never forget the day he almost killed me then saved my life.

  She’s setting Little Joe back in the stroller and sighing. “He’s not with us anymore. He decided to take the easy way out.”

  “I’m so sorry.” I want to walk around the counter and hug her. I feel connected to her but I barely know her. “If there’s anything I can do…” I’m ringing up the candles and bubble bath, feeling awkward.

  “Can I be honest with you?”

  I’m putting the items into a bag. “Of course.”

  She’s hesitating, like she’s afraid of what she’s about to say. “I don’t want any of this stuff.” She’s still blushing. “I’ve been hiding in my house for a few months now. My friends have been trying to convince me to get out. I saw an ad in the paper for this place with your picture next to it.”

  I’m laughing because I look like a dork with two thumbs up in that picture. “I won’t win Sexiest Man of The Year for that one.”

  She’s laughing with me. “You seem like a nice guy. I wanted to see you again.”

  I stop and stare at her. Since Samantha died 2 years ago I never even looked at another woman. But I can’t deny it — I’m attracted to Myra. “Can I take you out to dinner tonight?”

  She’s blushing again. “Dinner sounds great but I can’t find a babysitter that fast. Maybe another time.”

  I may have misread her. Now I’m embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I think I stepped over the line.”

  “No, no , no. I definitely want to go out with you.” She’s biting her lower lip. My God she’s so beautiful.

  My palms are sweaty and my heart is racing. I’m taking a deep breath. “Little Joe should come with us.”

  She’s smiling from ear to ear. “I hope you know what you’re getting into.” She’s reaching into her purse and pulling out a pen. “Let me see your hand.”

  I’m holding my hand out to her, thinking she’s either going to shake it or slap it. But she’s turning it over and writing on it. It’s strangely erotic.

  “We’ll meet you here when the store closes. Call me if you leave early.” She’s capping the pen and putting it back in her purse. Now she’s pointing at the bag of candles and bubble bath. “I’ll go ahead and take that. There may be use for it after all.”

  I’M UNLOCKING the door to the basement. I’ve asked David repeatedly not to lock it when he’s working down there. It’s too much of a safety risk. Johnson had asked me to watch over him before he left. He said David had a troubled past but he was a good kid.

  “David?” I’m yelling down the stairs. I’ve only been down there one time and discovered I have a fear of closed in places. Now I’m afraid of more than one thing downstairs. It’s the perfect hiding place for David. But I need him right now. I didn’t buy this place just so I could be stuck behind a cash register all day.

  There’s no response. I’m looking behind me at the 5 customers browsing the store. I left a small bell on the counter if they need me. I just have to grab David real quick and drag him back up here.

  It takes me a few minutes, but the room is well lit and warm when I reach the bottom. There are white shelves all around — just like the store previously looked. The shelves are full of packaged soap bars. The room smells like a botanical garden.

  David is waiting for me at the bottom. “What do you want?” he says.

  My heart is racing as I look into his dark brown eyes. I have so many questions about last night. I had almost died at the hands of children. He just watched and somehow brought me back.

  “We need to talk,” I say.

  “So talk.”

  “I need your help upstairs.”

  He’s shaking his head. “I have more soap to make.”

  For the first time I realize he’s crazy. There are hundreds of soap bars here and no one is buying them. “I know you and Johnson have been doing this for a long time. But sometimes things have to change.”

  His shoulders are squared. “What do you mean?”

  There’s a lump in my throat. He’s younger and shorter than me but I’m scared to death of him. “This is a business, David, and we have to sell what people buy.” I’m studying his face. His expression hasn’t changed. “What you do down here is great, but no one is buying this stuff anymore.”

  He’s twisting his neck from side to side. “I knew you were going to mess things up. You don’t know anything.” His face is turning red.

  I realize he’s more frustrated than angry for some reason. I’ve decided to take a chance. “Does this have something to do with the children?”

  There’s a loud bang upstairs. I hear a woman screaming. I’m grabbing David’s shoulder and telling him to follow me. I’m racing up the stairs and looking beyond the door. I don’t like what I see.

  There are three teenage boys in overalls in the middle of the store. The oldest is swinging at the shelves with a baseball bat. The middle one is cheering him on. The youngest one, also the biggest, is pounding his fists while looking at the customers.

  “It’s the Wilson boys,” David says behind me. “They’re the biggest trouble in town.” He’s pushing me aside and stepping forward. “I’ll take care of it.”

  I’m trying to pull David back but there’s no stopping him. He’s 19 years old and pumped full of testos
terone. He doesn’t look imposing, but he’s stronger than anyone I’ve ever known.

  “Donnie!” David shouts.

  The kid with the bat stopped swinging and is looking at him. “Well, well, well. If it ain’t our old babysitter.” He’s spitting on the floor. “There ain’t no babies here.”

  “Give me the bat,” David says, “and I’ll let you walk out of here on both legs.”

  “I ain’t givin you shit.” He’s swinging at the shelves again. Shampoo bottles are flying all over the room.

  I’m fishing my cell phone out of my pocket and dialing 911. David is staring at me and shaking his head. I don’t know what he has planned, but I’m scared for Donnie.

  “John,” Donnie says to the middle teen, “what do ya think about babysitters?”

  “Babysittin’s for faggots,” John snickers.

  The youngest boy is cracking his knuckles and pounding his fists.

  David is charging for Donnie. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. This Donnie kid is mean and scary but I have no doubt David can rip him apart.

  “Fight! Fight! Fight!” John is jumping up and down.

  “David! Stop!” I yell.

  Donnie’s swinging the bat at David’s head but David is ducking and avoiding it. David just rammed into Donnie and lifted him up like a rag doll. He’s throwing Donnie against one of the shelves. It’s crashing to the floor with him.

  The women in the room are screaming. One just ran out the door.

  David’s picking up the wooden bat and slamming it across his upper leg. It broke in half. He is a beast. I can’t let this happen in front of the customers.

  Donnie is trying to stand but he’s falling all over himself. If I didn’t know any better I’d say the kid was drunk. His brother John is trying to help him up now. The youngest one is staring at David and pounding his fists.