B is for Beasts: A-Z of Horror, #2

By P.J. Blakey-Novis

B is for Beasts, the second book in an epic series of twenty-six horror anthologies. Within these pages you will find a collection of thirteen stories from some of the finest independent writers on the scene today. From oversized bugs to Kaiju, vicious woodland creatures to giant spiders, B is for Beasts contains a range of terrifying stories in which the humans are always the prey.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Red Cape Publishing
• Release date: Feb 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201674830

Book preview

Red Cape Publishing Presents...

The A-Z of Horror: B is for Beasts

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2020 Red Cape Publishing

All rights reserved.

Cover Design by Red Cape Graphic Design

Www.redcapepublishing.com/red-cape-graphic-design

Interior Artwork by Art Autopsy

Www.redcapepublishing.com/art-autopsy

Momma's Rattle

Kristofer Kinsella

As his eyes fluttered open, the first thing Tyler noticed was the smell. A pungently sweet musk held in the air all around him, with an acidity that stung his tongue and made his eyes water. Tyler found himself retching, with bits of spittle dripping up his face and into his eyes and hair. The second thing he noticed was that he was upside down. Hanging, it seemed, as his body drifted side to side. Whatever was binding his hands behind his back was roughly scratching at his wrists. He was still wearing the simple fleece pants he'd fallen asleep in which did little to fight the chill.

Tyler's eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, but it didn't help much. From what he could tell, he was in a cave of some sort. Soft strands of moonlight sneaked through holes in the ceiling where rain had eroded it, and he could hear a steady drip somewhere behind him. Numerous stalagmites stared down at him like ancient daggers.

As his senses returned to him, panic and confusion finally set in. Tyler's heart began beating furiously in his chest, and his skin became clammy with cold sweat. His breath became ragged and he attempted a scream.

H-help. Please... he rasped, his parched throat unable to do more than a harsh whisper.

There was no answer, no sound. Tyler remained in the dark, his body slowly drifting back and forth. In an effort to stave off a panic attack, Tyler attempted the breathing exercises he used whenever he had to talk to his bosses. In and out, he directed his breath, slowly and assertively. Little by little, he felt himself regain his composure and could focus on escaping this nightmare.

In the corner of his eye, he noticed something. Below him, the moonlight had hit it and shined off. Tyler strained his head to see what it was. He let out a deep sigh; it was his wedding band.

It's kind of sudden, isn't it? Don't they know you have a family?

As usual in the morning, they were fighting. Though, Tyler wouldn't even call this fighting. Lucy just didn't have the spirit for it these days. All she could muster was a low buzz of nagging.

'It's not even for the entire weekend, hun. I've just got to go up to Pittsburgh, take care of some things, and then I head right back home."

His wife, leaning against the door frame, didn't even bother to respond. Lucy had stopped challenging him for a while now. She looks completely different, he thought to himself. Her hair looked flat, her once effervescent skin was pale, and her eyes dull. Was this even the Lucy he had first met? Tyler felt a bit of himself feel disgusted that this was who he was married to.

I thought I was getting a Ferrari...

After a day of doing the grunt work and the ass-kissing that would, hopefully, pay dividends in the future, he deserved a reward. Even if, he had thought as he looked at the weathered brick of the bar, the reward was just some drinks as far away from any other lawyers as possible.

The bar itself was a shithole, a little dive frequented by locals and has-beens. The Mims Tavern was as far away from the type of places he'd go to with his colleagues as he could find. In those places, he was just another average looking dickhead with some money. In a dump like this, few would dare compete with him. Here, Tyler could be the apex predator. All the barflies, with their greasy hair and calloused hands, resented him for who he was and what he had. Yet they would still smile at him and listen to his stories and jokes, treat him as one of their own. They wanted the free drinks he'd offer and the chance at his rejected scraps. Tyler was the lion and they were the hyenas, each knowing the other's role.

The women, too, would throw themselves at him. They came in a variety of flavors, from the rail-thin with the tramp stamps to the chunky ones with the big tits, the ones who could always find a reason to dance, no matter the song. They all wore the same jeans-and-tank combo and each one was easy picking. Tyler's favorite game was to walk into the bar and look for the girl who was talking to a guy. Tyler would then spend the evening winning that girl, while the poor loser watched. It isn't enough to win, Tyler had realized; you need to make sure someone else loses. And compared to him, everyone in this bar was a loser.

Except for Lucy.

Dusky shoulder-length hair to match her chestnut eyes, and with a toned body shaped by her years running cross-country, Lucy was the lone person there that was his equal. She worked behind the bar to pay her way through college, dealing with classes during the day before handling the drunkards at night. She was more than tough, Lucy was resilient. And not just book smart, she was clever. More than anything else, Lucy saw right through Tyler.

Nothing would win her over. No technique, no approach Tyler tried would seal the deal. Eventually, Tyler found himself ignoring the other women, the easy game that took no skill. Eventually, Tyler realized he wouldn't be happy until he had her.

Lucy shot him down every time.

Lucy wasn't enamored by his looks and couldn't care less about the size of his bank account. For the longest time, the closest thing to a compliment she would give him was an Oh, you're funny with raised eyebrows and an air of loftiness. Tyler was sure it was meant as an insult and he loved it about her.

The night he found out about his mother everything changed between the two of them. Tyler came in already partially in the bag and sat by himself, away from the bar in a corner table. This had confused the patrons as Tyler always sat at the bar, always wanting to be in everyone else's view. The bar crowd gave him his space, knowing that tonight the lion did not want to hunt.

Lucy gave him the space he wanted as well, not playing their game of words and remarks this evening. It wasn't until deep into the night that he opened up to her. Tyler talked to her about how his mother had just passed away. Tyler had barely known her, mainly through letters and a few visits when he had been a child. She'd been his father's mistress with his first wife and when he found out she was pregnant gave her a choice: Take the check and give me the child or lose everything and still give me the child. Tyler's father was a powerful man with a deep roster of lawyers and his mother was a nobody. There was no fight, as there was no chance she could win. His father raised him, and his mother was a faint ghost that haunted them. Tyler hadn't even known she had cancer as his father didn't think it was worth bothering to mention. He didn't know his mother was dying until she was already dead.

That night Lucy held him close and lent Tyler her strength. By morning Tyler had decided he wanted Lucy as his wife. It only took a few months of dating before they had a wedding day. Tyler was blissful and content that day, saying I Do with Lucy. Even after the honeymoon and they'd fallen into a married routine Tyler remained content. He would work and then come home to a wife that pleased him. Lucy challenged him at times, but she always loved him and would always give her strength to him.

All that changed when the twins came.

Despite his best efforts, Tyler could not break the binds on his wrist. The rope, if that was what it was, was too strong. After all that effort to break free, the binding remained firm and intact. Tyler's wrists burned from his struggles and he could feel the slow drip of blood where the rope had dug into him.

As Tyler hung upside down attempting to stay focused on escape, he heard the sound of frantic movement. Realizing he hadn't been alone this entire time, Tyler halted all movement in his body and held his breath.

There was choking behind him and then the familiar sounds of the braided rope straining as it moved. This was followed by a gagging sound that was matched with a frenetic rustling of clothing.

Hello? Is someone there?

The rustling sound stopped, and Tyler was given a soft moaning in response to his question. I'm not the only prisoner! Tyler realized. His fellow inmate clearly had his mouth covered or gagged, unlike Tyler.

Listen, my name is Tyler. I'm...I'm tied up, hanging from the ceiling. You too?

A low mmrph of confirmation.

Okay...okay. Listen, we need to figure a way out of here. We are in a cave of some sort; do you see an opening or anything like that?

No response.

What about something that can free us, do you see anything?

Two grunts, an almost uh-huh.

Good! Is it on the cave floor, can we try to reach it?

No response.

Not on the floor...wait, do you have something on you? Pockets?

A single enthusiastic grunt this time.

Alright, okay. That's good, that's very good. I think you are behind me. Can you swing? Can you try and swing towards me?

No response this time, but Tyler could hear the rustling again. He felt the air move behind him. After a few moments, something brushed up against his back.

Was that you? Did you just feel me? Try to do it again, and I'll catch you.

He was hit again, a bit harder this time, from this silent friend. His hands grasped wildly at the feel of denim, but he was unable to hold on.

Let's try again, I almost had you!

Tyler was able to barely grasp onto belt loops this time. His fellow prisoner was much heavier than Tyler. His fingers strained to keep hold of him. Tyler was able to slowly turn his friend until he found the back pockets. Tyler did the best he could to awkwardly search the pockets while holding onto the man. It was a slow process that made Tyler regret never bothering to strengthen his hands while at the gym. In one of the back pockets, he felt a wallet. He let that drop out as his fingers crawled towards one of the front pockets. His heart sank as he felt keys slip through his fingers and to the cave floor below. Tentatively, Tyler made his way to the other front pocket and explored it. His heart raced as his fingers found a small object. The comforting feeling of wood and metal gave him hope. He fearfully held his breath as he pulled the object out. When the object was firmly in hand he let go of his friend and secured the object with both hands. Tyler carefully traced the object with his fingers and, almost crying tears of relief, realized what he held: a pocketknife.

Oh, splendid. You're awake.

There was a clicking sound, and then a small light illuminated the cave from behind Tyler. His friend whimpered and Tyler heard something being dragged on the cave floor. Was he taken away? He felt warm breath on his neck as delicate hands gently held him at the shoulder. His captor slowly turned Tyler around.

She was completely naked holding a candle that gave a warm glow to her pert breasts. Her thick ebony hair was still beautiful, even in the dank cave. The woman's jade eyes glimmered in the candlelight. Her sharp teeth smiled at Tyler, the same sharp teeth that had felt so good on his neck.

Belinda.

A half-hour after leaving his home in Baltimore, Tyler arrived at the motel. An L-shaped motor lodge across a parking lot to a roadhouse, the kind of place that still accepted cash and asked no questions.

Tyler received his key from the clerk and walked his way slowly to his room with his weekend bag in hand. Tyler enjoyed this part, shedding his worries as he walked to the farthest room on the L. He wasn't worried about Lucy discovering him, but he still preferred as much privacy as possible.

Upon entry, the room was exactly as you'd expect. Obnoxious carpeted flooring with dim lighting and that familiar wisp of forgotten cigarette smoke. On a wooden drawer was a giant CRT television with a placard detailing the premium channels Tyler could enjoy. Beyond that, was the modest bathroom.

Tyler closed the door behind him, dropped his bag on the floor, and sat down on the bed. The mattress sunk in, but he didn't mind, as he closed his eyes and smiled to himself. I deserve this.

It's not as if Tyler enjoyed lying to Lucy, not at all. Tyler needed a break, away from his life and his wife. Everything about their marriage had been perfect until Lucy had the twins. It was as if all her vibrancy had been stolen away. Tyler remembered, a few weeks after coming home from the hospital, returning from work to the house with all the lights off. Lucy was sobbing on the couch in the living room. Tyler turned on the lights and hurried over to her. He knelt beside her and asked Lucy what he could do to help.

I don't know, was her response, sounding nothing like his wife.

So, Tyler set her up with a doctor, and not a cheap one. Twice a week, Lucy would go to him to talk about her emotions and her feelings and whatever else cost Tyler hundreds of dollars an hour. She would come home, and Tyler would ask her if she felt any better, and she always responded the same:

I don't know.

So, Tyler hired someone to help take care of the twins. A nanny, from the best service around town, to help carry the load of being a parent. Maribel was a French granny who cooed over the twins and gave Lucy the warmest of smiles but was always chilly to Tyler. He'd threatened to fire her after she dared to give him advice on his marriage. As if she had any right to tell him anything! He hadn't fired her yet because it would upset Lucy and he did not want to deal with that.

There were times, usually late in the evening after Lucy had drifted to sleep and he'd drank a nightcap in the kitchen, that Tyler wished they'd never had kids. He loved his sons, of course. But the two of them were costing him his wife. He no longer had that clever and strong woman he'd married. Instead, he had this empty shell that wouldn't get better no matter who he hired to fix her.

So, he had earned this. Tyler deserved to become someone else for the night. To relax and get drunk, listen to a terrible local band and watch fat bikers play pool. And if he found someone who wanted this person for the night, he deserved it. Someone who didn't just roll onto her side with I'm just not up for it and a sigh. Tyler's needs were just as important as his sad wife's, and he deserved to relax and enjoy himself. He deserved to live someone else's life for the night.

Tyler opened his eyes, sat up from the bed, and headed towards the bathroom for a shower. The water peaked at lukewarm, but Tyler didn't mind. He enjoyed the silence of it all. No crying babies, no crying wife, and no intrusive Maribel. Tyler finished up his shower and prepared himself for the night. Tyler dressed in a pair of designer jeans and a plaid buttoned-up shirt, something that said Yeah, guys, I'm like you! Only better. He continued his preparation in the bathroom, styling his hair just right and applying some cologne. Finished, he stared at himself in the mirror. Or rather, he stared at Derrick.

Hi, I'm Derrick. Hey, I'm Derrick

After a few tries, he felt natural in his Derrick skin. He would leave Tyler, with his problems and responsibilities, here in the motel until morning.

He took out the little bag of coke from this pocket and poured some on the bathroom counter. He cut himself three sizable lines with his credit card, rolled up a twenty, and snorted them. Instantly, he felt comfortable and at ease. Tonight was going to be exactly what he needed.

He looked down at the wedding ring on his left hand. With his right hand, he grasped it and gave it a few twists, before it slid off with ease. He knew he should leave it in the motel room, maybe in the medicine cabinet. Instead, Tyler slipped the wedding ring into his pocket, figuring a little part of Tyler could come with and have fun.

Tyler wanted to scream, wanted to roar at this woman. Ask her what the fuck she was up to, tell her how god-damn insane she was, and demand that he be freed. The words, though, caught in his throat.