April's Panic Room An Anthology of Horror

By Tabitha Swann

April is a female professional wrestler has moved out west to make a new life for herself. But everything falls apart when she's visited by one of her former partners who comes carrying bag of stolen cocaine and a rare championship belt. The two are then chased down by numerous low lines from the wrestling underworld, all of whom have been promised a bounty if they get the drugs and the belt back.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trellis Publishing
• Release date: Jun 23, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201850630

Book preview

APRIL’S PANIC ROOM 

TABITHA SWANN

table of contents

APRIL’S PANIC ROOM

THE DEER WOMAN

PALE BLOOD

I,VAMPIRE

VAMPIREVILLE

AMY’S LAST WORDS

April Hellfire Hacker watched the small man wave the knife in front of her face. He was done demanding answers for now, but he would soon ask again. She thought about her child and her husband, trapped upstairs with the criminal this man was looking for. While the small man had a knife at her throat, the man upstairs had a gun.

I won’t lie to you, April, the small man said, lifting up April’s chin with his hand. You’ve looked better. I watched you fight once. You all came to Oklahoma City in eighty-eight, the whole gang. Put on a hell of a show. You threw Machine Gun Micky off the top of a steel cage. Landed right near my little nephew. Best thing he ever saw. He still talks about it and he must be gone thirty by now. You know what men are like now. Like children, they are. Nobody grows up any more. The man sighed, shook his head, and ran a finger down the edge of his hunting knife. He’d be real pleased to meet you. Even now. Hey, how about this? How about a selfie? You know how to take a selfie?

April grunted from under the tape over her mouth that wrapped completely around her head and her hair. Her eyes stayed on the knife. She felt the ropes around her chest constricting even her shallow, panicky breaths.

Come on, the small man said, putting the knife down on the blood-peppered rug in April’s den, just beside a plastic firetruck. He took out a phone with shaky hands. You know how to do this? I ask my nephew’s kid to show me, but he goes too fast.

April shook her head. Her eyes rolled with the pain. The small man’s shoulders slumped. He put the phone back in his pocket and picked up the knife once more.

Why don’t you just suck her dick? came a sullen voice from behind April. Jesus Christ.

The small man glanced beyond April and his face relaxed, his eyes unfocused. He wasn’t looking at anything in the room. April could see he was thinking ahead. He was thinking about consequences. He was imagining what he could get away with.

Let me just beat her some more, the voice came again. It was the young man who had clocked her when she opened the door, she was sure. She saw flashes of his face, but not enough to remember what he looked like. The punk even kicked her while she was unconscious, she was sure. Her whole body ached and felt immovably heavy. What are we even doing here? She doesn’t have the stuff. She’s not talking. Let’s do her and get out of here.

The small man walked around April with an exasperated sigh.

What the fuck- the young man said, before he was cut off by grunting sounds from the small man. What the fuck! the young man screamed. You’re fucking dead! There came the sound of his limbs thrashing. April turned her head but could only see bloodied hands flailing, throwing punches at nothing. A short, sharp crack stopped all the noise. The room was silent, then, but for the small man’s laboured breathing. It was broken only for a few seconds by a guttural, bubbling breath, a death rattle.

The small man hobbled back around in front of April, wiping blood from his knife on a handkerchief, ignoring the splatters all over the pants of his tired brown suit. He sat down on the chair opposite April’s. He gestured with his knife behind her and said, I’ll tell his father you did that. He won’t know any different. Hell, he’d be suspicious if April ‘Hellfire’ Hacker didn’t put up a good fight, am I right?

April nodded.

Look, the small man said. I know you’re not involved in this. You probably didn’t know a thing about it until the Alabama Hammer turned up on your doorstep. Am I right?

April fought the urge to nod.

You don’t have to say, the small man said. That’s fine. I know, you see? But, look, now that you’ve stabbed my friend back there, something has to be done. Someone has to take the blame for that. It can be you or it can be. Or – listen to me, April – or it can be James Judge, ‘The Alabama Hammer’. And shouldn’t it be him? Isn’t this all his fault? All you have to do is tell me where he is and whether he’s armed. That’s it. I know he’s been here. His prints will be all over the place, am I right? Tell me where he is, I’ll go get him. He ends up in the river, but not before I get his prints on this knife. I’ll drive by on my way home and drop it right in your driveway. How about that? He gets the blame. My boss gets his things back. You get to do whatever it was you were doing before this storm landed on top of your house.

He didn’t know Judge was in the concealed panic room upstairs with a gun pointed at her husband and child. His colleague hadn’t spotted it when they checked the house. No-one ever would unless they knew what they were looking for. It just looked like a button on the side of bookcase and unless they’d memorised the dimensions of the house from the outside there’s no way they’d spot that missing six feet of floor space in the master bedroom.

April found herself wishing she’d married a stronger man. Her husband was kind and charming, but that wasn’t going to protect her child now. He knew a lot about art and literature, but what good was that against a 260-pound drug addict with a gun? Face it, she thought. He’s a wimp. With the thought came a pang of guilt, along with a strong feeling of regret, because she knew it to be true. He never stood up to anyone. He always asked her permission for everything. He wouldn’t even eat leftovers without checking seven separate times with her if she wanted them.

She leaned forward against the ropes and grunted in an agreeable-sounding way. She didn’t know if the small man was carrying either, but she couldn’t bargain with her mouth taped shut. She eyed the hidden camera in the uppermost corner of the room, concealed amid a swirl in the painted plasterwork. She knew Judge would be watching and listening to her every move.

I take this off, you’re going to talk to me? the small man said. No more screaming?

When April nodded, he took his knife and put it to her face. She winced away from it. It was cold on her tear-streamed cheek. He pulled at the tape and then cut in a sawing motion with the knife. He caught April’s skin and she jerked her head back. There was a little more blood on his knife and she felt the warm trickle go down to her chin.

I can only apologise, the small man said. April opened and closed her mouth to stretch her jaw. Now, about our deal.

The deal for April, although the small man didn’t know all the terms, was that either she would die by his hand for not co-operating or her husband and son would die by Judge’s hand if she did talk. She racked her brain for anything she might have done recently to upset the universe, but she came up with nothing.

What do you say? the small man said, forcing a polite smile.

Judge was here, April said. She strained to look behind her at what was causing the large pool of blood to spread to her feet and soak into her socks. He came. He went. That’s it.

Just a passing visit? the small man said, his eyes narrowing, his smile vanishing.

No. He had something he needed help with. A bag.

What was in it?

I didn’t look. He told me it was drugs.

You didn’t look?

I wouldn’t know a bag full of real drugs from a bag full of baby aspirin. I didn’t need to look.

Did he show you the belt?

April hesitated.

You saw it, the small man said, smiling. Heck, I bet you won it a few times, that belt. No women’s championship for you. You were a superstar, right?

I won it, she said.

You know how much that championship belt is worth?

To a wrestling fan or in the real world?

Either way, that’s a lot of money.

He wanted me to help him sell the drugs.

Why you?

I’m the only person he knows out here.

In the whole of Los Angeles, he only knows you?

Yes. He knew I moved out here, set up a new life. He heard my husband is a gangster.

Is he? The small man tilted his head. He connected?

No, April said. He’s not.

The man gestured at his surroundings. This your money?

Yes. I do conventions, photo shoots, that kind of thing. I’m a personal trainer.

Who do you train? Celebrities?

Actors, but no-one you’d have heard of.

Try me. I love television. Really.

"You watch Castle?"

No.

That’s it. He’s my famous one. He’s nice.

April glanced up at the camera over the small man’s shoulder. She did it deliberately, not moving her head but waiting until he was making eye contact to do it. When he caught it, he paused. He narrowed his eyes at her. She nodded very slightly. He frowned, interested.

I’ll take you to where he is, April said, then adding quickly, He’s in a motel across town. He won’t let you in, but he’ll see me, then you follow me in, do what you have to do, I leave.

What if you’re lying? What options do you leave me?

He’s not here. Your boy trashed the placed.

You going to behave if I untie you?

Yes, she said firmly. Then she let him see her look to the camera. Are you ready?

He glanced and clocked the camera. With a suspicious look, he turned back. Sure, he said. We can leave right now. My friend there isn’t going any place.

The small man stood and moved around the back of April. She felt him begin to untie her. He leaned in close and whispered. You have a panic room up there?

April leaned forward so her hair fell over her face, covering her mouth. She whispered back, We have one in the bedroom. You can’t get in. There’s no way to open it from the outside once someone locks the door from the inside. Judge only comes out if he thinks you’re dead or down the road.

What do you care about this guy?

My husband, my kid. He’s got them in there with him. This guy can take a walk into the sea, for all I care.

Armed?

Mm-hmm.

Your husband a big fella? Can he take him?

No. He’s not a fighter. April found herself wishing hard that he were.

Do as I say. I don't care if your family lives or dies, you hear me?

The ropes went slack. The small man raised his voice again for the benefit of the microphones that were wired back into the panic room. I have a gun in my pocket. You know this. I will shoot you because I have a perfectly good story and no-one knows I’m here. He wiped the handle of the knife with his handkerchief and said, Here, hold this. April grabbed the handle and he pulled a pistol from his coat pocket. Now, give it me back. She handed him back the knife and he took it carefully with