Don't Read After Dark: Keep the lights on while reading these! (A McCray Horror Collection) (91 page)

Blood gushing and vision spinning, Leo tried to stay upright, but his knees gave out from under him. He took a kick to the jaw, which lifted him up and slammed him against the set of cabinets. Pans rattled on the impact.

It all happened so fast. Cliver had Tamra by the hair. Bitsy had Jonathan at cleaver point, and Stacey was on the ground—with Ma’s tree-sized leg holding her down. This was not how today was supposed to go.

Wouldn’t Auntie Leykeisha be proud?

With the world spinning and Ruf towering over him, there was no point in struggling. At least not now. Instead, Leo moaned and slumped to the ground. It was only a quarter of a ruse. Leo wasn’t sure if he could get up if he really wanted to, anyway.

Tamra, however, screamed as she kicked and clawed and scratched at Cliver. Leo slit his eyes open, watching their struggle from under the table. The bitch was giving the guy a run for his money, but suddenly Tamra’s feet stopped their frantic motion.

Leo could hear Cliver hiss, “You are mine.”

Tamra was a self-admitted backstabbing whore, but not even she deserved that fate. As Ruf’s feet turned toward the other side of the room, Leo carefully edged his way back. He propped himself against the cabinet so that he could see more than just feet.

Ma gurgled something as her eyes darted from Bitsy to Leo. Whatever that was about, Leo was certain he did
not
want to know. Maybe he should have stayed on the floor. Leo panicked. With the world still spinning lazily to the left, he had to play it cool. For himself. For all of them. They were fucked up, but they were alive. He bet most, if not all, of the others who found themselves here with an empty tank of gas could not say the same.

“Ma’s right,” Bitsy said as her cleaver dug against Jonathan’s T-shirt. “I get to go first.”

But the obese woman gurgled some more, her eyes straining in Leo’s direction.

Cliver shook his head. “No, Ma. That one doesn’t like girl parts.”

Leo tried not to throw up in his mouth. He was unsuccessful, as Ma’s one eye studied him. After a moment, she grunted and gave the faintest nod. Internally, Leo sighed with relief. It looked like he’d dodged a bullet on that one.

“I say we give him to Ruf,” Bitsy said. “He doesn’t know the difference half the time anyway.”

“No, no, no, no, no, no,” Leo repeated as he tried to scramble back, but the cabinets blocked any escape.

Ruf, however, clapped gleefully, shaking the fat of his arms. The big man giggled as he bent over to grab Leo.

Jonathan shouted, “Now!”

Leo didn’t have to be told twice. He pulled the knife from his sock and stabbed upward, burying the stainless steel deep into Ruf. Leo knew everyone else was in motion as screams and cries echoed off the small kitchen, but he was more concerned with the fact that Ruf didn’t seem all that bothered by the knife gutting his stomach.

Leo scrambled and grabbed another knife from the table.

“This is for Jerome,” Leo said as he sank that hilt into Ruf’s belly as well.

The big man clapped again, though. Seemingly delighted, Ruf picked up another steak knife and stabbed himself.

“That tickles!” Ruf said, picking up a knife from the table. “My turn!”

* * *

Stacey wanted to do her part, but the pepper spray was under the table, and she could barely breathe with Ma’s leg firmly planted on her chest. And the woman still had a death grip on Stacey’s wrist.

Helpless, she watched Ruf raise the knife over his head, aiming downward at Leo. This was
so
not the plan. This was supposed to be a fact-finding trip. How could they have known that the family would pull a blitz attack at supper? And they certainly hadn’t factored Ma into the equation.

The knife sliced through air as Jonathan shouted, “Stop!”

Stacey watched as he broke free of Bitsy’s hold, pulled his gun and aimed it at her head.

“I said, stop!”

Ruf’s arm was in motion, though, and the sheer weight of it brought the knife down. Leo, however, blocked the blow and then twisted Ruf’s wrist, causing the big man to scream like a little baby as he dropped the blade.

Stacey used the only weapon she had. Her teeth. She bit into that huge “cankle,” drawing sweet, sweet blood. Ma yelped, pulling her leg back. Breaking free, Stacey crab- ran over to her purse, pulling out the pepper spray. She hurried to her feet.

Stacey pointed the nozzle at Ma.

Glancing up, Stacey caught Jonathan’s gaze. A tight smile spread across his lips. Jonathan had lost a sister to this place, and Stacey had lost a brother. Leo had lost a lover, and Tamra, well, Tamra had lost a distant cousin whom she didn’t really know all that well. She was more of a revenge groupie.

They shared their sorrow over the Internet, in support-group chat rooms, uniting in their grief. If the police couldn’t find any evidence of what had happened to their loved ones, then they would.

On the last week of summer vacation, they had come here to find out the truth.

Of course, they’d found out
way
more than even they had expected.

“Now we are going to call the cops and shut you motherfuckers down,” Jonathan growled, never sounding so sexy as he flipped open his phone.

Cliver pulled Tamra’s face next to his and licked her cheek. “Go ahead.”

“Not
your
police,” Stacey spat. “We know you are all related. We’re calling the
State
Police.”

Behind those thick glasses, Cliver’s eyes dilated. She and the rest weren’t stupid. With all the missing coeds in this county over the years, clearly law enforcement was helping to cover up this family’s favorite hobby. And now to find out that the Tullocks were cannibals, to boot? Stacey gulped down the revulsion. She couldn’t think of her sister ending up in that soup pot. She just couldn’t.

Cliver looked at Bitsy, then Ruf, and then Ma. Clearly, he was calculating his odds. Sure, he might have Tamra, but the rest was an even split. Guess the family had never expected anyone to show up prepared. Sure, Ruf could probably give Leo a run for his money, but not before Stacey would pepper-spray Ma’s good eye, and Bitsy would be shot dead on the floor.

How much did Cliver love his family? Stacey and her friends were betting on a lot.

But Cliver’s fingers dug deeper into Tamra’s hair.

“We are prepared to die, Cliver,” Stacey said. “Even Tamra, if it means exposing the truth about this farm.”

Well, she hoped that Tamra still felt that way. It was the pact that they had made before setting off. However, with the blonde’s eyes wide open and the tears streaking down her cheeks, Stacey wasn’t so sure that the girl still agreed.

The room tensed as the silence stretched. Cliver was the unknown in this sick equation. Then a slow grin spread across his face. He nodded at Ruf.

“Have yer fun.”

Before the big man could swing the knife, Stacey watched as Jonathan pointed the gun at Ruf and shot. Well, tried to shoot. Nothing came out of the gun. Jonathan pulled the trigger again and again, but nothing came out.

It was Tamra’s laugh, though, that seemed the most whacked.

“Seriously,” she said between chuckles, as Cliver released his grip on her hair. “Didn’t you notice that the gun was awfully light?”

With a look of horror, Jonathan glanced down at his gun.

“I never loaded it, you moron,” Tamra said, and then turned to Cliver, giving him a full-bodied kiss on the lips. “You… you, I will get to later.”

Stacey brought her pepper spray up to Ma’s face. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but I will ruin her.”

Tamra just laughed. “Go ahead. It’s just saline solution in there.”

That couldn’t be. Could it? But Tamra had plenty of access to the bottle over the last three days. And if the gun was empty, Stacey doubted Tamra had left the pepper spray in play.

“Why?” Jonathan asked. Although at this point Stacey thought it was kind of moot. No matter how you cut it, pun totally intended, they were all going to die.

“Come on,” Tamra teased. “You guys called your website, ‘The Tullock Family Death Farm,’ and even registered it with ‘Lets get some revenge dot com.’ “

Stacey felt her stomach drop, seeming to pull her heart with it.

Tamra looked right at her. “We’re not some stupid, backwoods hicks. We have the Internet, you self-righteous bitch.”

“Bitch?” Stacey stammered. “Me?
I’m
the bitch?” Stacey didn’t even have a comeback for that. What witty retort could really wound a serial-killing cannibal?

“And you,” Tamra sneered at Jonathan. “Like I would ever open my legs for a man who wasn’t family.”

Make that an
incestuous
serial-killing cannibal.

Yeah, there were no adequate comebacks to that.

“Now, as I said,” Cliver stated, “Ruf, have yer fun.”

No, this
couldn’t
be how it ended. Not here. Not like this. Not after the months of planning.

Then the back door burst open, and a woman stumbled inside. If she was, in fact, a woman. Black soot covered her face, etching every line. But her skin looked more like leather than tissue, and her eyes were clouded over—blue, like marbles. And she smelled like… well, supper.

“Help,” she croaked. “Help me!”

* * *

Leo didn’t wait for everyone’s reaction to the woman. He grabbed the nearest utensil, a spoon, and drove it toward the only part of Ruf’s body that he knew for sure he could hit.

The eye.

Even though it was only a measly spoon, Leo felt the metal pop through the cornea, then scoop down into the soft insides until the spoon hit bone. Ruf screamed, frantically grabbing for the utensil. Leo hopped back as Ruf pulled the spoon out, eyeball and all. Blood gushed down his face and onto his overalls.

Leo pulled one of the knives from Ruf’s belly. He might not be able to poke through all that fat, but he could still do some damage. Dodging Ruf’s flailing arms, Leo sliced at any part of the man’s body he could. Each time blood spurted in his face, he thought of Jerome.

He had come here for justice.

Now, though? Now revenge tasted pretty damn good.

That was until he heard Stacey scream, “No!”

He turned in time to see Tamra raise a gun.

“Luckily, I didn’t forget
my
bullets,” she said with a smirk.

In such a small space, the gunshot sounded like a ballistic missile had been launched.

* * *

“No!” Stacey screamed again, knowing it was futile, as blood trickled down from the bullet wound in Leo’s forehead.

His expression wasn’t pained. It was simply surprised. Then Leo tipped over like a tree being felled, landing on the floor face-first.

Tamra turned the gun on her, but Stacey dove behind Ma, figuring it would give her plenty of cover. And no, she did not feel at all guilty for judging the fat chick now.

A shot rang out, but Stacey had no way of knowing whether it hit Jonathan or not.

Ma gurgled and groaned as she tried to rise.

Not so fast, bitch.

From behind, Stacey shoved Ma’s face down into her bowl of soup. The woman struggled, thrashing her face, but Stacey forced her down.

Was this a fair fight? Hell, no, and Stacey kind of liked it that way.

Stealing a glance to the side, she found Jonathan dancing out of the way of Bitsy’s cleaver as Tamra tried to get a bead on him. Cliver was nowhere to be found. Reaching behind her, Stacey fished for whatever was on the stove. She came up with a ladle.

“Jonathan!” she yelled as she tossed it to him. Yes, it was a ladle, but it was better than nothing.

Stacey was going to get him something else, but Ma put her hands against the table and heaved. Stacey was lifted off the floor and slammed against the oven handle. Her back screamed nearly as loudly as she did. Shoving aside the pain, Stacey grabbed the soup pot and swung it as hard as she could, nailing Ma in the temple.

The woman’s one good eye rolled back in her head as her lips trembled, drool sliding out like a sick, thick waterfall. Ma’s neck twisted to the side as her arms curled up to her chest. Then she made a sound like a wounded sea otter pup.

Well, too fucking bad. Stacey wasn’t going to be fouled again. She raised that damn soup pot over her head, smashing it down on the crown of Ma’s skull as soup sloshed over the edge. You could hear the bone crack as all the twitching stopped and Ma’s quadruple chins lolled against her chest.

“Behind you!” Jonathan yelled as he caught Bitsy’s jaw with his ladle, wrestling away the cleaver.

Stacey had no time to do anything other than drop to the floor as a shotgun blast rang out. She felt the pellets fly by, some slicing through her hair as she fell. A startled scream came from across the room. Stacey looked over to find Bitsy staring at her shirt as blood spread outward from the multiple pellet holes.

This is why you did not shoot fucking shotguns in the house. But Stacey’s glee was short lived as Jonathan also looked down. His shirt too looked like a perverse, bloody tie-dyed print. The two slumped into one another, clutching each other as they slowly sagged to the floor.

* * *

Cliver stared in disbelief as Bitsy gasped one last time. Her eyes glazed over as she stared blankly at the ceiling. Ruf wailed again, but Cliver wasn’t sure if it was for their fallen sister, or his own wounds.

Tamra turned her gun on Cliver. “You stupid son of a bitch! To think that I almost
married
you.”

“No,” Cliver said as he brought his own gun back up. “Tamra, it was an accident.”

“Which is what Ma always said about you,” Tamra retorted.

Bitsy was dead, but that didn’t mean Tamra had to get mean.

But she went on. “You know why Ma wanted me to cur out? Find a new man to marry?”

“Stop, Tamra,” he begged.

“Because she knew you were weak and nearly as stupid as Ruf, but at least Ruf could lift her.”

Anger surged through Cliver. To compare him to Ruf? No matter how much he wanted to rut with his sister, she’d gone too far.

“Maybe you told Ma you had to go out into the world to stop these folks, but I know you, Tamra,” Cliver hissed. “You always were an outsider.”