Soul Burn

By Alex Baker

No one knows what lies beneath the surface of another human being: what they desire, what questionable things they have done, and what they are willing to do to get what they want. We take comfort in knowing, or at least hoping, that the skeletons we keep in the closet will never see the light of day. We live on a thin edge, balancing fantasy against reality, always wary of letting the monster inside of us out of the cage, or worse yet, that we may come across someone who already has. It is the thin veil of control that we all exist behind, and our four main characters are about to face the consequences of lifting that veil.
Roofy Reiner is a Russian ex-wrestler fighting his inner demon, quite literally. Losing control of his body to evil inhibitions and forced out of wrestling for crippling an opponent, his life has dwindled to a pale shadow of its former self. Spending his days lifting weights and being emotionally whipped by a self-indulging tyrant for a wife, Roofy longs to leave and start over, but he no longer has the mental fortitude to see the plans through. A phone call and a teenage girl are about to change all of that, sending him down a road that will have Roofy rediscovering himself and facing his worst fears.
Saddled with news of a fatal health issue, that he believes is actually demonic possession, and framed for murder, the Russian leaves town with Constance, his youthful neighbor. Longing to escape the boring routines of her dull existence and a mother too self-engaged to be tolerated, the girl invites herself on a journey that will have life-altering ramifications. None of that matters to Constance, though, who is smitten with the ex-wrestler; all she needs to do is continue to control his decisions. She has learned all too quickly that her innocent beauty and cunning words will accomplish that goal.
Unbeknownst to either, a serial killer is following them. Bent on revenge and blaming Roofy for the transformation that has left him a blood dealing night-stalker, Ambrose has left a trail of grizzly carnage in his wake. Dressing women up as superheroines and disposing of their lives in horrifically unique ways, the crazed, vampire-like murderer is determined to kill everyone the Russian ex-wrestler cares for, culminating in the demise of Roofy himself.
Hot on the case of the crimes is Richmond P.D. Detective Laura Stenks. Torn between her duties as a law enforcement officer and her twisted desires to sexually reenact the murders being investigated, Laura races to catch up to the unsuspecting travelers before it's too late. The only thing more important than saving them is keeping control of her own haunted, abusive past, and perhaps, her lust for the Russian's physical pleasures. It is an erotic dance on the edge that she cannot resist. The only thing in the way is a teenage girl.
The four of them, destinies entangled, will collide in the heart of sin city, but will their secrets – their frailties – make them stronger or destroy them all? It all comes down to control...and the lack of it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alex Baker
• Release date: Jun 13, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310019449

Alex Baker

I was born and raised here in Richmond, Va. I grew up with a love for all things sci-fi and comic related, with Star Wars, Star Trek, Marvel and DC comics all influencing my imagination. Anime crept in there somewhere, and I can still remember all the words to the title song for the first Anime cartoon I watched - Star Blazers. My favorite is still Dragonball Z, though, and I have the Vegeta tattoo on my left arm to prove it.Although I started out drawing, writing became the natural extension for my creative output. By the time I got around to taking it seriously, though, I started having children. Raising them came first, and that meant holding down a regular job and bringing in steady income.As they grew, I turned my attention back to writing. Completing a number of graphic novel scripts, I worked with artists to complete the packages necessary for submission. I also found out just how hard it was to crack into the comic industry if you are an unknown.Receiving good feedback from publishers regarding the writing and ideas, I decided to try a different avenue. That lead to the writing of Frailty, my first book. Now that it's published, and I've learned some lessons about the process, it's on and up from here.

Book preview

PART ONE – BROADS & BARBELLS

1

Sarah Whent...Amazing Woman. Sarah Whent, a thirty-something, athletically built, straight-haired brunette was making her way down a hallway in the Southern Suites apartment building. Wearing a tight-fitting costume resembling a one-piece bathing suit, she fumbled through her purse for her keys, cursing the restrictive fabric. Although, she had to admit, the outfit had garnered her plenty of attention, including a man who had offered to let her tie him up with her lasso. The bottom of the costume was covered in white stars, set against a background of purple. The top was red and revealing, especially given the ample size of her breasts. On more than one occasion Sarah had caught herself checking a mirror to make sure she had not had a wardrobe malfunction. A giant, white ‘A’ started in-between her breasts and terminated at the gold belt around her waist. Knee length, high-heeled boots and suntan pantyhose had complemented the ensemble nicely and accentuated the curve of her legs, but they had also made keeping her balance precarious, which caused her feet to suffer. Large, silver bracelets and a tiara finished off the look.

Amazing blisters is more like it, she muttered to herself as she paused, just past a set of room doors, to rest her aching feet. Maybe I should just take these things off now.

Amazing Woman? asked a slurred voice, catching Sarah from behind.

Startled, Sarah had not recalled seeing anyone along her way, but it always seemed her luck to attract the unwanted. She clutched her keys in one hand and purse in the other.

Coming around to face her, the twenty-something man sported a nappy t-shirt and knee-length shorts. The scruffy hair, unshaven face, and stench of inebriation lent clear evidence to the binge he was on most of the time, or at least this particular weekend. Weekend parties in the building certainly were not uncommon.

Your Halloween costume - it's Amazing Woman, right?

Sarah regained her composure and glanced down at her costume, feigning ignorance to keep from encouraging the man while still keeping sight of him.

Oh, um, yeah - Amazing Woman, she said hurriedly as she walked past.

Too drunk or too ignorant to sense the disinterest evident in Sarah's reception of him, he pursued her with enthusiasm. Almost stumbling into her, he held one knee up in the air while pointing at a tattoo. See, look! I have you, um, her, on my leg!

Why me? she muttered under her breath. Rolling her eyes, Sarah maintained her deliberate stride.

Still on her heels, though, the drunkard peeked over her shoulder, angling for attention. You into cosplay?

What? Sarah stopped abruptly in front of apartment 102. She had no idea what he was talking about and no desire to find out.

A concerned voice came from across the hall, seeking to diffuse the situation. Everything okay, Sarah? An elderly, balding gentleman, standing in front of his apartment door, was captivated by what was unfolding. Cradling a bag of groceries against his sleeveless sweater, his demeanor made it clear that he had no intentions of leaving without an answer.

Sarah gave her neighbor an appreciative wave to put his mind at ease. It's fine, Walt. Thanks.

Giving a skeptical look, Walt entered his domicile and slowly closed the door behind him.

So, you wanna hang out, or what? blurted the alcoholically oblivious drunk, undaunted by the old man's attempt at intervention.

Uh, no, Sarah retorted sharply.

Wanna smoke some weed?

That would also be a 'no'. Sure, why don't we go get stoned when I just told you I didn't even want to hang out with you, moron. With that, Sarah pushed into her apartment. I think that's my cat calling, she said, slamming the door in the man's face.

The clueless drunk stood there staring at the door, as if his inability to accept the obvious would cause her to change her mind and join him.

Um, okay, goodnight, Amazing Woman. Concentrating on his footing, he staggered away. Wow...Amazing Woman.

As he made his way down the hall and around the corner, a shrouded figure, having observed the sequence of events unnoticed, looked on.

2

The two Halogen front porch lights at the Reiner house, situated in the suburban neighborhood of Rustic Mills Estates, provided one of the few bright spots at night in the cul-de-sac. Illuminated by its radiance, the costumed couple, returning late from a yearly Halloween party, prepared to enter the home.

Kate was proud of her Red Siren outfit and confident that the spandex and Lycra material had adequately showed off her toned body. Normally, going as a superheroine was not her style, but in a room full of women who thought they were the goods, she assured herself that the attention would be on her.

The costume had come packaged with red tight shorts and a sports bra top in red, with the letters RS in black on the left side of the chest. Kate had made her own adjustment, having her mom, who was handy with a needle and thread, run sheer black nylon up from the top of the breasts, around the neck, and flowing down the arms in sleeves. The package had suggested red, calf-high combat style boots, with black trim, as the proper accompanying footwear. It seemed way too butch for Kate, so she had opted for black heels.

Roofy's large, muscular, Russian frame loomed over his wife. Admiring her attire, he was sure she had made the last-minute swap to dressing as a superheroine only because his friend, Sarah, went as Amazing Woman. Was a good party tonight, no? Roofy's thick Russian accent broke the uncomfortable silence that had lasted through the entire ride home.

Mm-hmm, Kate grunted, opening the door. Inside, in the foyer area, she tossed the keys on a small table set against the inside wall.

I can't believe you went as another wrestler, Roofy. So original. She started for the stairs.

It was good costume, I think, Roofy replied, ignoring the belittling comment. Given his immense physicality and former career as a wrestler, it had seemed the perfect choice. He had worked a program with Claw, a large masked competitor in UWA, and they were close to the same size. The studded, leather headpiece, was meant to portray a menacing appearance, but hunched over, as if physically accenting the meekness in his voice, Roofy did not feel too tough at the moment.

Totally dismissing him, Kate walked off up the stairs.

Many good costumes there.

I'm going to bed. She continued up the stairs.

Kate, you want to...

I have a headache.

Roofy removed his mask and let it dangle from his hand, as he watched her legs trail off. In contrast to the defeated feeling he had, the fresh air felt good on his head. The mask was obviously not supposed to be worn for hours on end. He had become uncomfortable half way through the party, and his short, sandy blond hair was still damp with sweat.

The party had been a highlight for Roofy for a long time, but now, he found it was growing more and more uncomfortable each year with Kate there. Things had not always been this way, or maybe they had and he was just too naive to notice. He had met her shortly after he had joined the UWA and left Russia. It had been a lonely transition, not knowing anyone or speaking the language. She worked as a marketing representative for the arena he performed in twice a week while in the UWA training league. It was easy to believe that she was just attracted to him and wanted to help him adjust to his new life. Then his wrestling career ended and the steady, considerable income dried up. He had been reduced to working store openings and autograph signings, and Kate, who had quit her job, was forced into working again. The more comfort they had given up, the more resentful she had become. There was very little companionship left between them, and he was not even sure where, or with whom, she spent most of her time. Honestly, Roofy was not sure he even cared.

Picking up the keys, he walked through an opening to his left and into the dark living room, where he had dressed before the party. He discarded his Claw costume over the arm of the couch, put on the jeans and t-shirt, that read Hard Iron Gym in a circular design, grabbed his jean jacket, and walked out the door.

Roofy's bright red, new model Cobra Mustang rumbled slowly down the street, headlights illuminating neighbors' yards as he went. A few houses away, awash in the soft aura thrown from an interior light shining through an open car door, a young female caught his attention.

The pure white teddy, wings, and halo that the girl wore seemed to glow. Roofy stared at the costume, unaware of the fact he had lifted his foot off the accelerator, causing the vehicle to slow. Eyes crawling their way up her body to her face, he found her staring intensely back at him.

In an instant, the moment was over, and Roofy's car trailed off into the night, leaving him to ponder her wry smile.

3

Sunlight poured in through a window at the head of the Reiner bed, casting an ornate shadow in the shape of the black iron headboard. Lying partly covered in the sheets, under a licking assault by a tail wagging, medium-sized Cocker Spaniel, was Roofy.

Jolted out of his sleep, Roofy began rubbing the dog with one hand, while massaging his own forehead with the other. Although his drinking had not been heavy the night before, it was enough to have left him with a slight hangover.

Khorosho...khorosho. I am awake.

Leaving the dog to stand on the bed, Roofy got up and put on a pair of exercise shorts.

It's about time you got out of bed. Wearing a tennis outfit and hair back in a ponytail, Kate stood just inside the bedroom doorway, hand on her hip and fuming. The t-shirt Roofy had on the night before dangled from her free hand. Just where were you last night? she berated him again.

Roofy ran a hand sheepishly through his hair. I went to a bar. Despite her outfit, he was sure any exercise she had experienced that morning was not from playing tennis.

Kate held up the blood stained t-shirt, shaking it for emphasis. And where the Hell did all of this blood come from? It looks like a tampon, for Christ's sake, Roofy!

I was leaving the bar...

Which bar, Roofy? she blistered.

It is Mundens. Outside of the bar was a crazy fan who recognize me. He yelled, 'Hey! Mr. Apocalypse'. Mimicking the man in his story, Roofy waved his hand. The asshole threw that shit on me, Roofy added, while pointing at the shirt Kate had thrust out in front of him. Then he run off and yell 'Rule the ring, Ruskie'.

And you did what? she belittled, with the bloody shirt hanging from one of the hands on her hips.

An uncomfortable silence settled into the room. Roofy, averting his eyes like a scolded child, watched as the dog, sitting at the end of the bed, nibbled on his fingers. When did he start letting himself get treated like the canine? Actually, their pet made out better than he did. He had been so strong, physically and emotionally. His hard life in Russia had shaped him that way. Now, bending to the endless tirades, the frustration was building up.

The lack of a response was all the answer Kate needed. Rolling her head back in a demeaning manner, she continued the verbal assault. Oh...my...God! What bullshit! What a pussy! Mister big, bad ex-wrestler.

A tremor rippled through Roofy, the force of it surprising him.

You should stop, now, he rasped, hands shaking.

Or what? Kate mocked, almost as if she awaited a punch line.

Like a dam breaking loose, a wave of intensity and evil intentions flowed through Roofy.

Or this! With the yell, Roofy lunged forward and clotheslined Kate clean out of her shoes. Her feet flew into the air, sending her back to the floor with a loud thud. Behind them, on the bed, the dog yipped in surprise at Roofy's hulking form.

Apishly, Roofy grabbed Kate by the hair with one hand and pulled her to her feet. He had his other hand pointed up to the air, as if playing to a crowd in a wrestling match. The dog watched from the bed, its head tilted slightly and tail wagging. Kate was disheveled and did her best to beg off another attack.

Despite her efforts, Roofy delivered a big chop to her chest. As the smack echoed through the room, he yelled, And this! with his mouth wide open in over-exaggeration. Without missing a beat, he turned and smacked the side of the dog, which looked unsure of what was happening.

Tag! Roofy grabbed the dog by the tail and swung it in a wide arc through the air.

With a loud Woof, the dog connected with Kate's face.

Discarding the animal, Roofy climbed over the foot board and on to the end of the bed. Standing up, he had both hands raised in the air.

Determined, he jumped and landed an elbow drop on Kate. Her legs and arms flailed from the impact. The dog lay off to the side, with feet sticking straight up in the air.

Roofy got to his feet and stood triumphantly, straddling the fallen woman. Flexing his muscles, he let out a loud Oh, Yes.

Well? Kate's voice pulled Roofy out of his hallucination. She stood in the same spot, hands still on her hips, with the bloody shirt still dangling in her