Single White Psychopath Seeks Same

Chapter 24

NOT ONLY did I have the sound of Daniel’s footsteps to follow, but he was also emitting a stream of outrageously creative profanity, so I was able to keep on his trail.

A door opened and slammed shut just ahead.

I promptly hit a dead end, but quickly retraced my path, took the other branch, and found the door. Though the plan was to regroup at the exit, I didn’t want to lose my chance when Daniel was on the defensive. So I let out one of those piercing whistles I used to love so dearly in elementary school silent reading time to help guide Roger and Charlotte in the right direction, and then opened the door.

The next room was the largest one yet, and looked like nothing so much as an underground warehouse. The room was probably two hundred feet square, and filled with piles and piles of machinery, vicious-looking implements of torture, and props. There was a stack of artificial corpses that must’ve been fifteen feet high.

I saw Daniel duck behind an electric chair and fired, but the bullet struck the arm of the chair. Keeping a safe distance in case he’d somehow armed himself, I ran to the side to get a better shooting angle, but he was gone.

A three-foot scorpion flew through the air at me. Without thinking, I blew the plastic creature away, which had obviously been Daniel’s intent. I had three bullets left, at the most, so I had to be careful.

A slightly larger octopus was launched at me from behind a display of ballerina bodies impaled on lances. It landed on the ground in front of my feet with a splat. “Dude, you’re throwing rubber mollusks,” I pointed out. “It’s time to give up.”

“Never!” Daniel shouted as he hurled a football over the display. I didn’t get a very good look at it, but I’m pretty sure it had squished roaches stuck to it.

The football hit the ground and black smoke began to pour from each of the ends. I hurried away from it, taking cover behind a medieval stretching rack with a large replica of Gumby on it.

The door opened, and Mortimer entered. As he shielded his eyes from the smoke, I took aim and fired. And missed. Mortimer turned toward the rack in surprise, and I pulled the trigger again, only to be rewarded with a click.

“He’s out of bullets!” Daniel shouted from behind the smoke cover. “Get him!”

Mortimer, holding a butcher knife, ran toward me. I tossed the gun aside, stood up and grabbed the first thing I could use as a shield, a very large teddy bear with a slashed-open stomach and innards that were most definitely not stuffing.

“Hello, I’m Bernard the Bear!” said a jolly voice. “Will you be my best friend in the whole world?” Three-inch claws burst out of the bear’s paws. “Or do I have to mess you up? ”

I swung the bear around just as Mortimer arrived. His knife got Bernard in the chest. I lunged with the machete, missing, but twisted Bernard so that his claws slashed Mortimer’s arm. Mortimer struck with the butcher knife again, stabbing Bernard in the face.

“ Be my friend, yes sir-ee, or I’ll hunt your family…” sang Bernard in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Daniel’s.

My next swing with the machete missed, and Mortimer got in a rock-solid uppercut to the jaw that sent Bernard and I stumbling backwards, smashing into the stack of corpses.

“Hey kids, have you ever wanted to take a bath with Mr. Hair Dryer?” asked Bernard.

I tossed Bernard aside as Mortimer charged at me. Though he stopped well out of range of the machete, he threw the butcher knife. I moved my head out of the way and it stuck in the nose of an unfortunate artificial cadaver.

I was distracted enough by the knife that I wasn’t able to stop Mortimer before he pounded his fist into my chest. I bashed against the corpse stack again, flinching as one of the plastic hands goosed me.

Then I slammed my head forward, connecting with Mortimer’s forehead. In the movies, this only hurts the defensive head and leaves the offensive head in tip-top shape, but in real life it makes the offensive head feel like it’s about to split open like Humpty Dumpty.

However, Mortimer was certainly in pain as well, and he backed away, hands to his forehead. I lashed at him with the machete, getting in a great hit that slashed across both of his upper legs. He went down, howling.

Then I realized that I had a very big problem behind me. I hurriedly got out of the way as the stack of corpses began to topple. Mortimer tried to scoot out of the way, but with his injured legs he simply couldn’t move fast enough. The fifteen-foot pile of plastic carcasses came crashing down upon him. The last thing I saw before turning away was an extended corpse hand slamming into his open screaming mouth.

I had a very strong feeling that Mortimer wouldn’t be getting up.

Bernard the Bear chuckled. “Remember, kids, that rabid squirrel and your sister’s sock drawer are a perfect match!”

“Come on out, Daniel,” I shouted. “It’s just you and Josie left, if she’s not already dead, too.”

Daniel came on out, holding a flamethrower. I got the hell out of the way as he let loose with a burst of flame that sent Bernard to his fiery demise. The machete had served me well up to this point, but it wasn’t going to be much of a match for a flamethrower, so I ran.

I passed several interesting props as I fled, including a full-sized guillotine, a dentist’s chair, an iron maiden in the shape of Homer Simpson, and a bubble gum machine filled with eyes, noses, and ears. I ducked behind a bullet-hole riddled baby crib with a tentacle protruding from it.

As Daniel came my way, I saw that he’d ditched the flamethrower in favor of a lawn edger, a lawn edger more appropriate for Jack’s yard after the giant beanstalk sprouted, but a lawn edger nevertheless. I shoved the carriage at him, catching him off guard, and wove through some piles of boring old lumber.

I heard the door open. Was it Roger, Charlotte, or Josie?

“Is he in here?” a voice demanded. Josie.

“He’s back here!” Daniel replied. “You cover the left; I’ll cover the right.”

I’d reached the end of the room, which contained a small pit, maybe eight feet deep, the bottom covered with mud. Six feet above this pit, hanging from a crane, was the most wicked-looking instrument of shredding I’d ever seen in my life…and I’d seen plenty of those things. It was essentially a wrecking ball adorned with drills, spikes, circular blades, pinchers, knives, corkscrews, and too many other things to count. It was overkill the likes of which I’d never witnessed.

“You like that?” asked Daniel. “I’ll be happy to give you a demonstration!”

I hurried across the edge of the pit. A shot rang out and a porcelain doll head shattered before I could tell for sure if it had vampire fangs. I couldn’t see Josie, but she could certainly see me.

Daniel pulled a handle on the crane. With a loud whirr, all of the drills, blades, and pinchers on the wrecking ball came to life. I made a mental note to avoid falling into the pit if at all possible.

I climbed behind a catapult with a large boulder in the cup, but it clearly wasn’t going to provide sufficient cover. Another shot splintered the wood right in front of my face, and I scrambled away from it behind another pile of lumber.

Josie came into view, limping. Behind her was a full-size dressing mirror with a cute picture of Satan drawn in lipstick, and a cardboard box that looked filled with handy weapons. At least, there were quite a few sharp edges poking out of the top.

“I just killed your friends,” Josie informed me. “You know, all you would’ve had to do is chop up one lousy person in the operating room and we would’ve continued believing you were the Headhunter. How does it feel to be so stupid?”

I had nothing to say to that. I didn’t know whether to believe her about Roger and Charlotte or not.

I could see Daniel circling in front of the catapult, his lawn edger ready for action. I picked up some pieces of broken lumber and tossed them over the pile, hoping to hit Josie through blind luck, or else get her to waste a bullet like I had with the scorpion. I didn’t get either result.

I was going to be trapped very quickly, so I scooted out from behind the lumber pile and back behind the catapult again. Daniel’s edger was immediately thrust toward my face, but I batted it back with my machete. With my other hand, I began to turn the winding wheel. If I could somehow get on top of the boulder, I might be able to catapult myself to safety. Yeah, I’d probably crash-land in a barrel of red-hot coals, but my options were limited.

Another shot splintered against the wood. There was no possible way I was getting on top of that catapult. My only hope was that Josie was standing right where the boulder would land. Daniel’s bullet hitting the machete had been a pretty nice miracle, and maybe I could squeeze in a second one.

I pulled the release cord. At least I hoped that’s what that thing was. It could very well be the let-the-rock-drop-on-whoever-is-underneath-it cord.

The arm of the catapult flew forward, heaving the boulder about fifteen feet across the room, sailing well over Josie’s head. It struck the top of the Satan mirror, causing the bottom to swing forward and send the box of weapons airborne. Lots of silver things flew through the air. Josie spun around and was treated to a half-dozen of them smacking into her, including the circular saw blade that took a cue from the Headhunter’s decapitating scimitar.

Daniel gaped in horror as his wife dropped to the ground in three places.

He let out a wail of grief and fury. I quite honestly couldn’t help but feel a tinge of sorrow for the guy, though that in no way stopped me from rushing out from behind the catapult and rushing at him while he stared at Josie’s remains.

I swung the machete back and forth, as fast and hard as I could. Daniel tried to parry with the edger, but my swings came too furiously, and he continued to steal glances at Josie. With one particularly intense blow I knocked the edger out of his hand. He continued backing away.

This was over. Now.

He looked over his shoulder and saw that he was dangerously close to the pit. But before he could move out of the way, I tackled him, hoping to knock him right over the edge.

Daniel kept his footing, grabbed a handful of my hair, and yanked. Then he drove his other fist into my throat. I tried to gasp for air, but I couldn’t breathe, and I felt Daniel spinning us, moving me closest to the pit.

I could feel my bare feet start to slip. I still couldn’t breathe. Daniel threw another punch at my throat, but I blocked it, grabbed hold of his wrist, and squeezed tightly, trying to dig my fingernails into his skin.

My heels slipped over the side of the pit.

I continued to struggle in vain for oxygen. My left foot dangled in mid-air.

Then, using every last bit of strength I possessed, I forced Daniel’s wrist up into the air as high as I could. Right into one of the twirling corkscrews on the wrecking ball.

Before he could even finish his scream, I pushed myself out of the way, and then slammed my elbow into his back.

Daniel pitched forward and fell into the pit, landing face-first in the mud.

He got up and trudged through the mud, screaming in fury. I was able to suck in the faintest breath as I staggered toward the crane.

Daniel put his hands on the edge of the pit and began to pull himself out.

I pulled down the second lever on the crane.

The wrecking ball began to lower.

“You son of a bitch!” Daniel shrieked, frantically trying to climb out in time. But the wrecking ball lowered quickly, and within seconds Daniel had to pull away to avoid it.

“You’re dead!” he screamed. “You’ll never get out of here! Never!”

And then the wrecking ball hid him from sight.

I walked away quickly, not wanting to hear the gruesome sound as Daniel Rankin met his doom.