Page 17 of No Way Back
“I bet it’s a real good one.” I grin, making her eyes go wide.
She nods, clutching her hands to her chest, unsure what brand of psycho she’s dealing with.
Surprise—it’s all of them.
“Tell me,” I sing in a sweet tone to encourage her, bringing the ax behind my shoulders.
“I-I was a nurse,” the gray-haired woman stutters.
“Oh-ho,” I laugh. “Let me guess: killed a bunch of people? Old, sickly, dying, miserable fucks?”
She’s nervous, and I can only tell because I’m inches from her face. It’s the only way to see enough in the dark, which meansI’m unfortunately close enough to smell the piss soaking into her pants. “N-no.”
“Interesting.” I brighten my tone. “Go on, girlfriend.” I nudge her with the butt of my ax, my wrists now resting over the wooden handle, still over top of my shoulders.
“Infants.” A snot bubble inflates and sucks back into her nose.
“How many?” I continue to put on the sweet act, getting what information I want from her while she thinks she's in my good graces.
“Over thirty-four in my career.” There’s a hint of pride when she says it, puffing up her chest.
“Why?” My tone is genuine. I don’tneeda reason; I know that none of what I do makes sense.
But I want to know if it’s the same for her.
Her voice is a shrewd tone, laced with hatred and bitterness. “Ugly little things. Needy and crying for attention.”
The blood pours like a fountain, spilling freely before she even notices I slit her throat with the blade of my ax. She flaps her foul tongue to speak, only further ruining her chances of coming out alive while she chokes on her blood.
The woman clutches her throat, panic filling her eyes, her nostrils flaring in pure desperation. It’s not that I draw the line at innocent babies.
It’s that her reason is justsofucking stupid.
“Get a different job, you fucking maniac,” I yell down at her as she drops to her knees, but I don’t watch to see what happens.
My gaze is only on the stairwell exit doors as I lift my ax into the air like a sword. “To the dungeon!” I profess, knowing Harkins is only a few feet behind me.
So I don’t expect it when I’m hit in the back as soon as I open the door. All the oxygen is pulled from my lungs as I wheeze, struggling to take little sips of air, a painful burn filling my chest.
A boot kicks me in the rib, sending me flying against the wall. My back slams into the concrete, a demonic croak escaping my throat when I’m finally able to breathe. I brace for impact again but hear my favorite sound: Harkins’ fists.
The chainsaw swings on its strap behind his back while he pummels the guard with his bare fists, only stopping to relieve his holster of the pistol. Demetri throws the gun to the ground, sending his fist into the guard’s stomach. I crawl closer, clutching my stomach, coughing in desperate attempts to relieve the pain in my chest. The guard lands on his back next to me, already bloody, his face swollen from Demetri’s hands.
“I’m a police officer!” he spits out. “You’ll go to prison for this!”
Demetri laughs. “You touched my girl; you’re a dead officer.” His words are steady and clear, sending a wave of hot arousal between my legs.
I’m suddenly healed.
Cock can be better than codeine, if administered correctly.
“Nurse!” I cry, crawling over the dying cop to get to my man.
“Grab his handcuffs.” Demetri’s voice is low, his tone full of command, and it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand.
Demetri’s shoe is on the cop’s other arm, and his chainsaw is pressed to the cop’s chest, the threat ringing loud and clear. He moans from pain, his only free arm holding the motor of the chainsaw in a wasted effort to keep it away. It’s futile; the only thing keeping that chainsaw from slicing his face open is Harkins.
I reach for his belt, unhooking the handcuffs and securing one of the guard’s wrists to the metal railing of the stairs.
