The Mammoth Book of Short Erotic Novels (63 page)

A shimmer of bioluminescent fungus delineated the cave in relief. The ceiling was low. Something was crawling over his skin. The floor was alive with countless larval insects. The mud pulsed and
moved. Things were crawling all over him.

Fur brushed his face. Something flew by. He heard a squeak. The cave was filled with bats. He was crawling through guano.

Feeling along in the darkness, his hand touched something hard. His dark-adapting eyes revealed its identity. It was a body: a person, a man. To Sam’s horror, he found that the stomach and
genitals had been eaten away, as if chewed out by some raging carnivore.

He found another dead man in the same state of partial consumption. Then another. Now he heard voices.

Was that Amanda?

He came to a tight passageway just big enough to squeeze through. Sam went through head-first. It turned downward. He wound up in a larger part of the cavern. This chamber was filled with the
dead bodies. They were stacked all around. The air was oppressive with the smell of rotting flesh. In the gloom, something was moving.

It was a huge beast, quadrupedal and hairless. It was the size of a small cow. It made made chomping sounds. Surrounding it were more bodies. Sam turned, trying to crawl back through the
aperture. But the slippery earth had him trapped.

The thing heard him. It spun around. It had the head of a human! Blood was caked on its lips. Strips of flesh hung from its mouth. It had long hair. It lurched toward him, close enough now for
Sam to get a good look at its face.

It was his mother.

Sam screamed so hard, he tasted blood. The thing charged. He desperately scrambled up the cave wall, slipping and cutting his fingers. He plied the sides for handholds, but got nothing. It was
behind him now. He felt himself sliding toward it. Hot breath enveloped his heels.

A small hand reached through the darkness in front of him. Sam grabbed for it. Whoever it was supported him, helping him upward.

“Come on, silly!” It was a little girl’s voice. Sam noticed his own hand: it was child-size, like the one he was holding. He kept moving upward, leaving the snarling beast
below.

“What are you, a sissy?” teased his companion.

“Stop calling me that, tomboy!” His own voice now rang high-pitched. He struggled back through the opening, and got to his feet.

“Well, then, come on!” his little friend added, running just out of sight.

Sam was standing before a black room. Two people were there. One was a woman, dressed very strangely. The other was a man with no clothes on. He was bent over some funny piece of furniture.

“You-are-a-slow-poke,” the little girl added in singsong.

“I am not!”

Sam kept moving. Now he saw two people eating dinner. They were having fun. He could not look for long; his friend kept slipping ahead.

Next he saw two people together in bed. They had no clothes on. The woman was on top of the man. What were they doing? The woman’s hand was in the man’s lap. She was holding
something.

“Ha!” the little girl interrupted. “Thanks to you, I know what that is. It’s an erection!”

Now a man appeared before Sam. He had an awful whip in his hands. He looked angry.

“Hey, come here and look at this!” The little girl was at a door. Sam went to her side.

“Sam Bigglesworth,” the girl read, pointing to the glass, “Detective Agency.”

The girl tugged at Sam’s hand.

“I’ve got to go, now,” she said, adding, “I enjoyed playing with you again.”

“Me, too,” Sam replied. “Maybe we can play . . .” But she vanished into the darkness.

Sam turned the doorknob.

A man was sitting at a desk, a stack of cardboard boxes beside him. Before the man sat two other men, dressed in suits. One was big, the other smaller. The big fellow had on a pair of
strange-looking glasses.

“Excuse the appearance of my office, gentlemen,” said the man behind the desk. “I am moving downtown, next week . . .”

“That should present no inconvenience,” assured the smaller man.

“So, uh,” the man behind the desk checked a notebook. “Mr Pierce, you want me to find some lady? I hope you at least have a picture of her.”

The big man pulled a magazine from his jacket and slid it across the desk.

“That’s her,” replied the short man, “on the back cover.”

The man behind the desk cocked an eyebrow. He circled the ad with a felt-tip pen. “What is she? Some sort of prostitute?”

“Not exactly. This woman is in possession of top secret computer hardware,” explained the short man. “She is trying to smuggle it out of the country.”

“Oh,” the man behind the desk interrupted, “so you guys work for the Feds. Great, then I can charge double!” He started laughing.

The two others did not join in.

Just then, the men in suits vanished in a puff of glowing blue light. But the man behind the desk remained. His eyes were locked on Sam.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Me?” Sam’s voice was deeper now. “I should ask you that!”

The man reached into his desk. He pulled out the Darkling hat.

“You know,” he said, “I thought I had erased you from my life, you disgusting pervert.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sam said, stepping forward. “That is not so easy. And fuck you!”

Sam dived over the desk. His hands locked on the man’s throat.

Everything in Sam’s mind exploded.

This was not the first time I had woken in a puddle of my own piss. But now semen was mixed in. I raised my head; I was still chained up in the closet. I was looking into the
barrel of a gun. It was mine. Pressing the trigger was Amanda.

“No,” I found myself saying. “I did not know who they were. They, they –”

My eyes were fixed on Amanda’s scar. It now stood out like a curse.

“Oh, God,” I found myself saying, “I did this to you, blaming you, blaming all women. But how could I ever hurt you? What, what –”

“Start making sense.” Amanda stepped forward. “This is not virtual-reality gaming! I could not see everything you just went through. However, I caught enough to know it was you
who led those agents here.”

“Yes,” I said, feeling calmer. “They hired me to find you. But it was not a set-up. It was just a coincidence. You said I was the new Sherlock Holmes. I can find anybody! You
and David kept your relationship hush-hush, and the anonymity of your business made you almost a non-person. You would have been history long ago, had it not been for that. But they knew the
Darkling hat was somewhere and, somehow, information on you must have surfaced. The two goons came to me, came to me, with an ad,” I broke off in laughter. “I had lost myself, Amanda.
Finally I was all gone.” I lowered my head. Everything was making sense, but I did not want these revelations.

“Why, Sam?” Amanda persisted, pointing to her maimed face.

“It’s not you!” I shouted. “It was my parents. They separated when I was a child. It was messy. Difficult. My dad was a good guy, but my mom was spiteful and vindictive.
She had a better lawyer and I wound up in her custody. But it was the men, all the men . . .”

“Neglect? Is that what this is about?” Amanda’s voice cut with a dismissive tone.

“This is my nightmare,” I calmly explained. “If you’re going to kill me, at least let me spit it out.” I owed her this. I took a deep breath.

“Neglect, yeah. That is part of it. Promiscuous would be too polite a word for my mother. I was always being dropped off at some baby-sitter’s or getting pawned off on neighbors for
the night. At best, I was put to bed early. But I could hear them downstairs – from my bedroom, my mom and one of her many friends. I knew she didn’t care about me, did not . .
.”

“Sam, it’s all right,”

“All right? All right to hate women? All of you, especially ones I love? You are my fucked-up mother! Why do you think I paid you to hurt me? And, in time, I knew you would abandon me. You
always are abandoning me, betraying me.” Sobs started blocking my words.

“I was the catalyst, the focus of your crisis.” Amanda acted as if she was talking to herself. “I pushed you too fast. The combination of physical and emotional pain, causing
you to snap.” Amanda was lowering the gun.

“Why should you care?” I mumbled. “I had a choice. I chose to leave you a bloody mess.” I gave my restraints a tug and threw my head back. “Shoot! Get this over
with.”

Then I felt her closeness. She was standing next to me in the puddle of my juices. She grabbed the back of my head and pulled me forward.

“Look at me,” she said firmly.

I couldn’t believe what I saw in her face: compassion.

“You think you deserve to die –” she ran her finger down the scar “ – for this? A hospital visit and two rounds with a plastic surgeon? Then a few months with a
physical therapist and a little acupuncture – I have some nerve damage now; and sometimes it twitches.” The side of my face came to rest on her leg. “It would be great,” she
continued, “if all wounds were so easily healed. Damn, that fucker Freud must be spinning in his grave; you hate me because I remind you of mommy!” She gave me a sharp look. “Who
are you?”

“Huh?”

“Are you the smart-mouthed sexist detective or the sensitive, intelligent guy I knew?”

The weirdest feeling came over me.

“Both!” I blurted. “We are both here.”

Amanda started unlatching my arms.

“I loved that guy, that man who first came to see me.” She helped me to my feet.

God, I stank to high heaven.

“Amanda,” I said softly, “he – I mean, we – still love you. The detective is having a hard time with this erotic lifestyle, but for the moment he is under
control.”

“Sam, we’ve got to get out of here. I mean, those agents . . .”

“Shut up, sweetie!” I heard myself saying. “If we are going to get out of here alive, we’d better start making with the feet – now!”

We were skipping the country.

I had to hand it to the broad: she moved like lightning. The only things she took from her dungeon were her favorite cat o’nine whip and that damn spider. She scooped it up in an empty
yogurt container. Now I had the creepy-crawly in my side pocket; she said it had to be kept warm. Shit, I must really love this bitch. Boy, the customs agents were sure in for a big surprise if
they searched me!

We had to stop off at the house she rented. Amanda needed a few things, namely that computer of hers. That thing has some range! It had been networked into the plumbing of Amanda’s brain
for years. Seems she could just not stand to be without it. And any woman needs a couple of changes of clothes. I hoped she had some clothes for me. I stank like hell!

Hong Kong was our destination. I was still owed big-time favors there. I knew one or two business types who just might like a crack at that Darkling hat. For the right price, that is.

Her home was a little colonial-style deal, way up in the suburbs. It was 3:15 a.m. I had been waiting nearly an hour. She had told me to wait. I always obeyed her. She was the boss. She would
punish me if . . .

What the fuck was I thinking? I would just love to get Amanda bent over a stool, and shove my hard cock up her ass. That would show her who was boss! I just, I just . . .

She was taking too long. I turned on the radio, hoping music would calm my nerves.

“Sam Bigglesworth,” the reporter snapped in, “is wanted as the suspect in connection with the slaying of the two officers. He was last seen traveling with a woman and
–”

Oh, great! Now I’m pegged as a cop-killer. Every cop on the eastern seaboard was now fighting for the honor of blowing my brains out. We needed to be at the dock in two hours. That
container ship would not wait, no matter how much I bribed. Finally, the lights blinked off in the house.

After five minutes, there was still no sign of Amanda.

I got out of the car and went to her door. It was half open.

Suddenly, the hair stood up on the back of my neck. What the hell did that mean? As if possessing a mind of its own, my hand gracefully reached inside my jacket, and slipped my gun from its
holster.

I pushed the door slowly open and entered Amanda’s darkened house. Her stuffed backpack was in the hallway. Just as I was about to call out, I stopped myself. I reached for the light
switch, but a little voice went off in my head, saying, “What, are you crazy?”

My feet guided me out of the hallway and into the living room. The carpet quieted my steps. I was standing before the fireplace. A blast of memories raced through me. I could almost see us
cuddled there after our late-night dinner in a quiet restaurant. I crouched down, touching the area where we once lay. I scanned the room.

“Sam – watch out!”

Someone slugged me – hard. I lost my balance and fell to the floor. My gun was kicked free and bounced out of reach. Lights blazed on.

That big goon with the visor was standing above me. How could such a big guy move so fast? That grenade-launching rifle of his was now pointed right at me. Amanda was on the floor, face down.
The goon’s partner – the shorter guy – was holding her. He kept her arm pinned behind her, and his knee pressed into the small of her back. He had a pistol, too.

“Well,” he announced, “you finally join us.”

I had my eye on the big guy. Although his face was partly covered by those spaced-out goggles, I was a quick study. Something was puzzling him. His rifle kept swinging, as if he could not get a
fix on me.

“So, Mr Bigglesworth,” the little guy said softly. “You had us fooled for a while. But you know what we are after.”

“No, Sam!” Amanda cut in, then, “Ouch!”

The goon twisted her arm.

“You see, Mr Bigglesworth,” he explained, “the mind of your charming friend was easy for my partner to scan. And, I might add, what a naughty mind it is!”

“Cut to the chase, Mr Pierce,” I interrupted. I slowly got to my feet.

The big goon grunted.

“Her mind told us you have the hat,” he continued. “But scanning you is problematic, it seems. My partner thought two people were waiting in the car.”

“OK,” I said, “you got us. If I give you the hat, you’ll let us go?”