The Ninth Circle Vol. 2: Night of the Bloodthirsty Ghouls

By Pro Se Press

Nurse Nancy Harrigan's Mercy Center is under attack by unknown forces while a virus is turning the denizens of the Ninth Circle into bloodthirsty rage monsters. With Detective Stoddard and the other mobsters closing in, has Nancy finally met her match?

The 9th Precinct is known as ‘The Ninth Circle’, the part of town where all the losers end up. If you work for a company or the city government and they want to get rid of you, they put you in their office or working over on Last Chance Lane. If you’re a criminal and you’re hiding from the law, other criminals, and yourself, you end up in the Ninth Circle. Imagine the city as a dumpster. The rank and fetid, the foul and odorous, the discarded and misused trash all sinks to the bottom. That’s where You are. Welcome to The Ninth Circle.

The Ninth Circle Volume Two: Night of the Bloodthirsty Ghouls by Tony Sarrechia. Based on a concept created by Tommy Hancock. From Pro Se Productions.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pro Se Press
• Release date: Mar 4, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310607141

Pro Se Press

Based in Batesville, Arkansas, Pro Se Productions has become a leader on the cutting edge of New Pulp Fiction in a very short time.Pulp Fiction, known by many names and identified as being action/adventure, fast paced, hero versus villain, over the top characters and tight, yet extravagant plots, is experiencing a resurgence like never before. And Pro Se Press is a major part of the revival, one of the reasons that New Pulp is growing by leaps and bounds.

Book preview

1

Click...click...click

Stiletto heels echoed like the hammer of a .38 snub-nosed revolver down the hallway of The Lady of Open Arms Mercy Center. Her walk had purpose and staff members knew to step out of the way of the long-legged nurse to whom those heels belonged. She stopped in front of a door that said ‘Staff Only’, adjusted her crisp white pencil skirt and stepped inside.

The four men wearing blue scrubs straightened up and gave her their complete attention. The Fridge, a large Nigerian whose skin was so black it was almost purple, offered her a chair. She declined.

Where is rig 3? she asked. No one met her gaze.

Okay. Let’s try an easy one. Where are Spence and Lucky?

The clock on the wall ticked off a minute.

She took a deep a breath and pursed her scarlet-painted lips. I am going to ask this one more time. The Fridge handed her a nightstick. ...Then I am going to get angry.

They never came back from their meeting with The Greek, Nance, a dark haired, blue-eyed man answered.

Nancy slammed the nightstick on the table. My rig and those two idiots have been missing since Thursday and I am just now finding out about it? On Tuesday?

Come on, Nancy. You know how those two are. Lucky may have gotten a hunch and headed up to the casinos.

Yeah, another man, this one with a thick Irish brogue commented. Last time they came back with what, over ten grand?

The men around the table nodded. Nancy let them speak for a moment then slammed the stick on the table again. It sounded like a shot.

Last time, they didn’t leave us an ambulance short. They also were not on a supply run for the Mercy Center. Since you all remember their exploits so fondly, does anyone remember what I said would happen to them the next time they didn’t check in with base?

Silence.

Anyone? Really? Vince? O’Connor? Felix? Victor? Let me refresh your memories. I said... No, I promised, if they ran off again without telling me or The Fridge I would cut off their toes.

O’Connor chuckled.

You find that funny, Bill?

Aye. A moment later, Wait, you’re not serious?

Nancy smiled, revealing her dazzling white teeth between her scarlet red lips. She looked at The Fridge and cocked her head in O’Connor’s direction.

Faster than a man his size should have been able to move, The Fridge got behind O’Connor, yanked him out of his chair, threw him on the table and dazed him with a sharp elbow to the head. When he opened his eyes again, his shoe was off and Nancy was standing at his foot. Nancy continued to smile – like a shark. From the black medical bag she wore around her shoulder, she took out a pair of bone cutting forceps. The light reflected off them.

No... Wait, O’Connor begged.

Nancy clamped the forceps around his small toe, the cold steel cutters drawing a small line of blood as they began to bite into his flesh. He looked around the table and saw no assistance forthcoming. He tried to squirm away, but pushing against The Fridge was like pushing against ropes of steel.

Still think I’m kidding, O’Connor?

He started to answer just as she squeezed and the forceps tore through his toe. O’Connor screamed. You crazy bitch!

Nancy held up his bloody toe. I’m not much of kidder. It would do you well to remember. The first one who hears from those two idiots better come straight to me.

She tossed his bloody toe on his chest.

A souvenir. I hope we don’t have to have this discussion again. Stitch him up, Vince. I need him on the floor tonight.

2

A noxious cocktail of antiseptic and urine filled the air. Rows of curtained care rooms lined the main hallway of the Mercy Center like mausoleums in a graveyard. Inside most of these care rooms were the poor of the Ninth Circle awaiting medical care unaffordable outside of Lafayette Lane. Despite all the good it did, The Lady of Open Arms Mercy Clinic would not exist beyond The Circle. It did not conform to any standards of care that a US Medical facility should have. It was a meatball urgent care clinic that you would see in a third world country. Most of the orderlies were ex-cons who Nancy knew through her years working in the State’s prison system. However, here in the Ninth Circle, from Lafayette Lane and points south, the Mercy Center was as good as the Mayo Clinic.

A Russian mother and her three children were waiting in one of the care rooms delineated by a stained curtain. Alonda did not give much thought to what those brown and maroon stains might be, nor could she begin to understand the scant medical gear on the desk. What she did understand was her eldest child, Iosif, was lying on the bed with old sheets, his foot wrapped in gauze that had taken on the color of spilled wine. A rusted railroad spike punched through his foot from bottom to top. Alonda kept brushing Iosif’s hair away from and his face and talking to him to keep him awake. The orderly who brought them into the room had told her not to let him fall asleep before the nurse saw him. Between the twins fussing and Alonda’s ministrations, there was little chance of sleep.

The curtain opened and the light from the main area momentarily blinded her. Then the nurse, dressed in white, stepped in through the light. She placed a bag on the table and, in almost flawless Russian, spoke to the twins. The nurse asked Alonda if the twins had any allergies and then gave them each a lollipop, the kind with the chocolate inside. They immediately sat in the plastic chairs next to the wall. Alonda thought she had just witnessed a minor miracle.

I am Nurse Nancy Harrigan, she said, extending her hand.

I know who you are. You’re the Lady of Open Arms of the Ninth Circle. Can you help my boy?

Nurse Nancy, as she insisted everyone call her, smiled and looked at Iosif. Such a handsome boy! How old are you?

He is ten, Alonda replied.

Ten and half, he corrected.

Ten and half it is, good sir. How did you come to get this spike in your foot? Were you saving a maiden from a dragon?

Iosif giggled.

Nancy opened the dressing on the Iosif’s foot, taking care not to cause the boy any additional discomfort. The local anesthetic would keep him comfortable, but she would need something a little stronger once she removed the spike; something, that, unfortunately, was supposed to be on the last supply run.

Iosif, I’m going to look at the spike. You should not feel anything but if you do let me know and I will stop. Can you be brave for me? She smiled sideways at the boy. Knowing the power her smile had on men, it was not much of a guess what it could do to a child. Iosif nodded. She raised her eyebrows.

It was time to get to work.

3

Felix cast a shadow against the back wall of the Emergency bay. The shadow loomed large. Like the shadow, Felix was smoking a fattie. His hands shook and his eyes darted from side to side. That bitch was crazy, he thought, and took a hit. The sweet tasting smoke filled his mouth and he let the sensation of the drug roll over him like a warm wave. When he opened his eyes, an ambulance had joined the shadow on the wall.

Felix walked around the back of the rig and his shadow disappeared, absorbed into the rig. The number 3 was visible on the ambulance’s back corner: this was Spencer and Lucky’s ambulance. Felix tried to look in, stretching his neck as far as possible without moving his feet any closer but he couldn’t through the filthy windows. He thought about getting someone, but not the crazy bitch. Maybe Vince, but he would feel better with The Fridge. Then she would know something was happening. Don’t screw this up, ese. We like our toes attached.

He took two short steps and pounded his fists on the passenger door. Hey Spence, Lucky... Dude, you guys in there? Nancy is one pissed off bitch at you guys. The rig sat there, water from the AC dripping on the ground. Felix walked to the driver’s side and slammed on the door again.

Hope you guys are wearing your steel toed shoes. He pounded again. Lucky, Spence... Come on guys, stop screwing around.

Felix was about to smack the window when he heard the door lock pop. It may have been the pot, but the pop seemed to echo from every wall. He stepped back. The door opened and a pair of black boots, one pant leg bloused, the other hanging freely, hit the ground.

4

Lucky looked out the window of the ambulance. It was just past dusk on a Thursday night and already the sky had taken on the color and texture of stale cigarette smoke. The buildings, sidewalks, even the people, were without color. A tombstone grayness clung to everything. Lucky hated this time of year, between the end of summer and the start of fall. The heat was oppressive. Your sweat stuck to you like a funeral shroud and people were on edge, just a heartbeat away from killing each other over the most trite and trivial reasons. The air conditioner in the rig was blowing out air only slightly cooler than the air outside: a frustrating tease of the cooler weather to come.

Up there. Spence pointed.

Of course, Lucky thought, the creepiest warehouse on Industrial Row.

Turn the lights off. We don’t need any more attention. And go around back. When they went through town, they always ran with the lights on. Why not? If the cops could speed, the ambulance could certainly run a few red lights.

They parked and Lucky grabbed his big red EMT kit.

Leave the kit here. This is a business call. Spence tapped his sidearm.

Their flashlights cut a beam as sharp as a stiletto through the dusty warehouse. Broken glass lay intertwined with black, rice-shaped kernels on the floor. The smell reminded Lucky of