DEAD END
By Randall Stone
WARNING: Adult Content. Viewer discretion is advised.
Dean Street, East Liverpool
The girl groaned as she came round, her eyes flickering open. Kevin Trainer watched her calmly from the front seat of the beat up old Transit van and lit a cigarette, pulling the acrid blue smoke into his lungs. He always loved this part. The way his victims came to amid total confusion and a banging headache, caused by the expertly placed hammer blow to the back of the head that rendered them helpless. Of course, following the said victim at a snails place in the van was an art in itself as he avoided detection and suspicion. On a couple of occasions, like tonight, he had found it necessary to park the van up as he followed his prey on foot but fortune seemed to be smiling upon him for the streets had always been dark and deserted.
He held the young girl in his gaze and waited for his all time favourite part of the operation. And there it was. The sudden fear and recognition from the victim that they were somehow in a place and position they really didn’t want to be in. She looked around herself wildly, giving voice to her fear as she realised her hands were bound tightly behind her back. He watched her struggle uselessly with a slight smirk on her face.
‘It’s hopeless struggling love. I’m an expert in knots. Learned it in the army.’ he said from the darkness, blowing the foul, offensive reeking smoke out of his nostrils. For a moment she was still as she glared up at him.
‘W. . .Where am I?’ she asked quietly, a notable tremor in her voice.
‘In the back of my van up a blind alley called Dean Street. It’s where I bring all my girls.’ he added, with a grin.
‘Wh.. .Who are y. . .you?’ she asked, struggling to a sitting position and leaning her back against the side of the vehicle. It smelled musty and old.
‘Ah now, there’s the thing.’ he replied, his grin widening. ‘My true name is Kevin but you can refer to me by my public name. The one the papers gave me. “The Mangler”.’
‘Have you heard of me?’ he asked. The girl nodded slowly. Even in the darkness he could see, by the reflection of the dim light given by the single lamp post outside, that her eyes were wide and fearful. ‘Sorry?’ he said.
‘Yes.’ came her almost inaudible reply. He smiled and nodded.
‘Aye. I’m getting quite a reputation now.’ he said, thoughtfully. ‘In the last eighteen months since I began my er. . .hobby, I’ve sent nine young ladies to the Kingdom of Heaven. Of course it’s been hard work. I mean, I haven’t just gone out on the street and struck out at the first pretty face I’ve seen. No, that would have been stupid and our friends with the talking brooches would probably have pulled me in after the first one. No, it’s all down to careful planning.’ He took one last drag of his cigarette before stubbing out the stump in the ashtray. He turned in his seat so as to get a better look at her.
‘You’ll be number ten.’ he said slowly, watching eagerly for any signs of terror. She appeared to press herself even tighter against the ungiving steel side of the van as though she was desperately trying to go through it or melt into it. He smiled with satisfaction.
‘I must say though, you are the youngest by far. All my other ladies have been in the twenty five to forty bracket. I couldn’t resist you though when I saw you cut through the park on Camp Hill. I was parked across the road by St. Julie’s school. Just how old are you, if you don’t mind my asking?’ The girl made an incoherent noise. ‘Sorry, didn’t quite catch that.’
‘Fourteen.’ she whispered.
‘Fourteen?’ he replied. ‘Why out so late in so lonely a spot?’
‘I was looking for my dog.’
‘Well, he’s probably at home now, curled up in front of the fire. Dogs are like that.’ He was quiet for a moment as he gazed out through the windscreen. ‘You know,’ he began, ‘this place is perfect for murder. We have an empty, disused night club on one side. . .’ he indicated the building to his left, ‘. . .and a chain of empty, boarded up shops here.’ He pointed to the right. ‘This used to be a nice, thriving area with a good shopping centre not very long ago. But now. . .’ he let the sentence die.
‘Do you know why they’ve dubbed me “The Mangler”?’ he asked suddenly. She shook her head. ‘Oh, don’t you read the paper? Listen to the news? No, well, girls of your age are too busy with their mobile phones and pop music and boys, rather than the real world.’ he went on, giving her no opportunity to answer. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. ‘It’s because of my penchant for dismembering my victims after I’ve finished with them. I take off the heads, hands and feet and dump them around the city. The bodies, I take back to my place and stick them in the freezer for a week or two. The authorities, once the other bits and pieces begin to turn up, know that they are going to find the torso soon. I like to make them wait.’
‘You have a lovely little backside. I was watching it as I followed you. I’m going to have some fun with that in a moment. It’ll hurt I’m afraid but not for long. I’ll do you quickly because I like you and because of your tender age. Shit, I might not even cut you up afterwards. It would be a crying shape to mar such beauty. And instead of strangling you, which I normally do, I’ll cut your throat as I take you from behind. It’ll be much quicker and the spasms in your death throes will give me a tremendous orgasm. I just know it. Of course, your young age and my change of MO will throw the police out and I may not get the credit.’ he thought for a moment before turning to her with a grin. ‘I know, I shall write to them. Yes, that’s what I’ll do.’ She saw him fish about in the pocket of his jeans ad take something out. There was a small click as he slid the razor sharp blade of the utility knife out. He made to move from his seat and make his way into the back of the van but something stopped him, making the breath catch in his throat.
The girl, head bowed, was laughing softly, her shoulders rising up and down with mirth. Her dark, blonde hair shielded her face like a veil but beneath the strands of hair, he could see the sharp, brilliant, amber luminosity of her eyes. When she spoke, her voice changed from the light, musical tone of a fourteen year old girl to a deep, guttural resonance that sounded anything other than human.
‘If you weren’t such a vein, foolish and conceited man, then perhaps you’d have read the rest of the local papers instead of just scanning the tabloids for your own work. You would have read that over the past six months there have been reports of a huge, dog like creature haunting the park and byways of Camp Hill. You see, I’ve been doing a little planning of my own.’ There was a low tearing noise from her clothing as her body appeared to swell.
‘Your fourth victim, Ursula Benson, was my auntie. She left two little girls, aged eight. Identical twins, and a husband.’ From the low level lighting, he watched transfixed, as her clothing continued to swell and her muscle mass increased. There was a loud snapping sound as suddenly, her arms shot to the side. She lifted her powerful clawed hands and pulled the rest of the rope free of her wrists..
‘Knots.’ she growled. ‘They’ve never been a problem for me.’ She shot forward at incredible speed, rocking the van on its suspension. Course, dark hair sprouted and crackled from every pore of her body as her features elongated into a snout. She opened her maw slowly, just centimetres from his terrified face and he gaped with unbelievable horror as her terrible teeth lengthened and changed shape. She was now almost three times her natural size and her form filled the van’s cockpit.
‘Stalking you began as a complete accident really.’ she continued in that terrible, bark like tone. ‘Eleven days after my Aunt’s bits and pieces were found, you came past Camp Hill in this very van while I was walking my dog. I detected her scent. I have a very keen nose you see.’ She sniffed loudly, her nostrils flaring as if to emphasise the point.
‘Oh, I could have tracked you down easily enough but there would have been little fun in that. No, much better to act the victim and I had a feeling you’d be back my way, sooner or later.’ She lifted one of her powerful talons and traced a light blood line down the side of his face. Her clothing now hung in tatters off the huge, heaving form of her canine body. She lifted her monstrous head and glanced out at the alley beyond, draped in shadows.
‘You’re right about this place.’ she growled. ‘Perfect for murder. Unlike you, I’m not going to make this quick. I’m going to savour every second, for my Aunt Ursula’s sake and for the sake of all those other poor women you have defiled and destroyed along with their families. Your career is over with. You have come to your dead end.’
His agonised screams went unheard as they echoed around the alley, accompanied by the tearing of his flesh and limbs as the van rocked crazily. Anyone looking in from outside would have seen very little for the windows were caked in dripping blood and matter. Later, as his voice box was torn from his throat, his dying gurgles would be accompanied by the triumphant howling of a legendary beast. . . . . . . .
