Barbed Wire Kisses

By scott colbert

Micah and Joshua were more than brothers. They were also serial killers, an unstoppable force of mayhem as they made their way across the Old West to California in search of gold. When they crossed paths with army sergeant and former indian tracker Eddie McCarthy, all their fortunes changed..

With a generous mix of blood, horror and good old-fashioned story telling, see why horror legend T.M. Wright said, "I would be very surprised if Barbed Wire Kisses doesn’t cause a stir in the genre; the characterizations are such a beautiful counterpoint to the action of the piece. "

• Language: English
• Publisher: scott colbert
• Release date: Jul 18, 2013
• ISBN: 9781497735774

scott colbert

Phoenix resident Scott Colbert is a transplanted New Yorker. Prone to send pictures of his cat to random strangers, you can listen to him babble on various podcasts and his website thesupernaughts.com

Book preview

Barbed Wire Kisses

By

Scott Colbert

Acknowledgements

While writing may be a solo occupation, the finished project would never see the light of day without valuable, insightful help. T.M. Wright for being an early reader, and offering the kind of help and encouragement that every young (or in my case, not so young) writer hopes for; Terry, your friendship and advice has been an honor and I can't thank you enough for all your help. I also want to thank long time friend Joe Adams for helping me get BWK back on the market. No Joe, I’m not dead...I’m reesstting.

And most of all to my family, my Mom Pat, her partner Jere Caswall, my sister, Kelly, brother in-law Bob, nephews David and Bryan, niece Courtney, and to all those relatives who have gone before me. I wouldn't be the writer I am, the man I became without your belief in me. You all have my love and affection. Also a shout out to my Marillion/Fish friends. Slainte Mhath!

Author's Note

Barbed Wire Kisses is a work of fiction, but very much inspired by the real life serial killers, the Harps Brothers. Their reign of terror occurred 100 years earlier than the setting for this story, and took place in the Deep South, not the southwest. However, without their crimes, this book would never have been written. Also, I have tried to keep things as authentic as possible, and any mistakes are purely my own. I have taken certain liberties with the geography of Arizona to best serve the purposes of my tale.

This book is dedicated to the one person who truly deserves it, my father, the late Edward Colbert. I miss you, Dad.

I say a murder is abstract. You pull the trigger and after that you do not understand anything that happens. 

Jean-Paul Sartre

Chapter 1

Micah knelt over her, erection jutting from the flap of his long johns, blood trickling from the scratches on his face. Oh, you dirty bitch, he said, eyes full of lust and hate.

He could feel Sarah starting to struggle and then she spat at him, getting phlegm on his lips. He licked at the wetness, offering a thin smile that exposed broken and rotted teeth.

That how you want it? he asked, backhanding her and splitting her lip.

Micah grabbed her throat and squeezed. Sarah struggled, her damp blonde hair becoming matted with mud from the river bank they struggled on. She reached up to claw his face again, but he grabbed her flailing hand, and then bent her fingers back until he heard the satisfying snap of bones breaking. She tried to cry out, but his hand tightened. Finally Micah loosened his grip enough so she could let her arms drop, as he saw the fight drain from her limp body.

Micah had no intention of letting her off easy. With his free hand, he ripped the top of her dress, exposing her pale breasts. He leaned down as if to whisper in her ear, and bit her lobe off instead. A small crimson pool gathered beneath her head. Saliva slid from his lips, mingling with the blood dripping from his cheek. Micah watched her eyes, saw them close partway, the whites taking over as the blue slid up. He loosened his grasp a little, and tore at the fabric and undergarment between her legs. Sweat and dampness from her peeing herself kept him from tearing it easily.

You goddamned bitch, he said, reaching for the bowie knife he had strapped to his right side. He cut at the cloth, not caring if he nicked her or not, and little red blossoms soon dotted the off-white fabric. Micah took his hand from her throat for a moment to get the dress off her. As he concentrated on the task, with her good hand, Sarah reached and grabbed at his balls, squeezing as tight as she could. Micah howled, pulled his hand back with the bowie knife, and smashed the handle into her mouth. Sarah coughed as blood and broken teeth filled her mouth. Micah stood up, cradling his balls. His erection died slowly.

Fucking cunt. He kicked her with the heel of his boot, spur cutting into her abdomen. Sarah curled into a ball like a frightened water bug. I ain't done with you yet.

Sarah tried to stand up, but Micah was too quick. With all his strength, he brought his right foot down on the side of her knee, breaking it so sharply that bone tore through her skin. Sarah let out a scream, the pain rendering her unconscious.

Micah looked down at her nude, bloody, broken body and was hard as a rock again. He kicked her legs apart, broken right leg at an impossible angle, and kneeled between them. He shoved his fingers deep into her, breaking the hymen. He withdrew and licked some of the blood away, rubbing the rest on the head of his cock. As he lowered himself onto her, he guided his smaller than average member inside. Micah lowered his head to her breast, guided her rosebud nipple into his mouth, and bit it off. He chewed it in time to his thrusting, and swallowed the bit of flesh as he came.

And still he wasn't sated. Drained though he was, his erection remained, throbbing and slick with blood and semen. Micah withdrew, turned Sarah over, and violated her again.

And again. With his balls finally emptied, his erection died a quick death. He stood, tucking himself away, and started to pull up his pants. He turned to his left as he buttoned his trousers, and called for his brother.

Joshua had been standing twenty feet away with their horses, watching intently and making sure that neither Anna nor Becka came strolling along from the shanty they all lived in just downstream. As soon as he heard his brother call him, he ran over, hand already undoing his own pants. All yours, Micah said, rolling a cigarette. Don't take all day, now.

Joshua grunted and pulled his pants down to his knees. He grimaced when he touched her. Sarah's skin was already losing its temperature. She's dead.

You ain't got any right to complain, Micah said, smacking the back of his brother's head. Dead, alive, who cares? It's a hole just be glad you got it.

Joshua shrugged and mounted Sarah's corpse. By the time Micah gathered some barbed wire from the saddlebag; his brother had finished and was giggling. Micah's slate gray eyes looked at Joshua, giving him a slight look of disgust. C'mon, we got some work to do here. He gave Joshua a pair of heavy leather gloves. Put these on. Joshua took the barbed wire loop Micah also gave him and looked at the dead body. Tie her hands together with the wire. Use these to make sure they're tight. Micah gave him some pliers used for working with the sharp wire.

Joshua got to work. The barbs sank in deep, scratching bone as he tightened the wire. Blood stained the gloves and pliers.

Done? Micah asked.

Josh nodded, handing the pliers and gloves back. Micah put the gloves on, took another loop - this one a bit longer - and knelt by Sarah's battered head. A kiss for you, he whispered. A barbed wire kiss. With that, he wrapped the loop around her mouth and cheek. The barbs flayed the flesh, poking holes in her cheeks and gums. When he was satisfied, Micah took his bowie knife from its sheath and knelt between her legs. Go get some rocks, heavy ones, and bring 'em over here.

Joshua obeyed without question.

Micah slid the tip of the knife between her legs. He sliced upwards with the ease of someone who had done this before, which he had. Granted, he hadn't done it much since he made it to Landon with his wife, kid, and retard brother. Still, the blood called to him, as it had since he was 14. Spilling the whore blood was the only thing that sated him and the voices. Once he hit the sternum, he pulled out his knife, wiped the blade over the broken leg, and sheathed it. Its work was done for the day.

Micah slid off the gloves and pressed his fingers into the wound, pulling it open to expose her innards. As he scooped her intestines out, he felt a tingling in his loins. While Joshua piled up some river rocks, Micah rubbed himself absentmindedly, reliving the past few minutes. Only the sound of Joshua farting, and the smell of something more than a fart, brought him out of his fantasy.

What are you doing, you idiot? he asked, though it was obvious. Joshua was squatting five feet away, leaving a sizable mound of shit on the riverbank. Micah took one of the rocks and heaved it at his brother. Get outta here!

Joshua blocked the stone with his arm, but yelped a bit, lost his balance, and sat in the pile he created.

Serves you right, Micah said. He threw the intestines at his brother, and told him to get rid of them. Bury them somewhere, and take your shit with you.

Micah shifted his attention back to Sarah. He took one rock and placed it in her empty cavity. He repeated this until he could fit no more. Grabbing the last, much longer piece of barbed wire, he waited for Joshua.

Once his brother returned, hands smelling of intestine and excrement, he had him hold Sarah's legs up, allowing him to wrap the wire around her midsection, binding the wound and keeping the rocks from coming loose. He made a final tightening of the wire, then grabbed the arms, and they dragged her to the water's edge.

Joshua got in the water, pulling her in as Micah followed. When they were waist deep in the Hassayampa River, they let the body sink.

Micah looked down and smiled.

Chapter 2

Eddie was too late to save the china man lying by the side of the road. In fact, had it not been for the straw, cone-shaped hat lying next to him and the railroad worker clothes, he never would have known it was a china man. Vultures had a way of stripping flesh from bone and plucking eyes from sockets that were most efficient.

Dismounting his dapple-colored mare, Eddie knelt down and looked at the remains. From his time as an Indian tracker, fighting the Apaches down South, he'd seen more than his share of dead bodies. Most of them, however, had hatchets, arrows, and bullets littering their torsos; many times the scalps were missing. There were no wounds on this one, the missing eyes and flesh aside. It was someone probably done in by the heat. To the railroad tycoons, they were tools - nothing more, nothing less. If one broke, they left it and got a new one. Maybe an Indian, or one of the Negroes, could be had. They weren't as good as the china man - didn't