The night my life went to shit, I was on a one lane back road winding around north of Riceville. I knew where I was goin’. I used to take the back way to Knoxville when I’d haul weed back and forth during the 70’s. I glanced over and made sure the book was still safe in the passenger seat. A musty old green thing with gold-embossed letters on the cover: The Excruciations of Khons. It was one of the books Abigail Butler had me move into the vault when she took over as head librarian at Sizemore University. We had both started there about a year ago, but I’m sure she made a hell of a lot more money than I did as a maintenance man. She had some kinda problem with those "occult" books. I figured her for one of them bible thumpers, what with the slicked back long hair. Long denim skirts and horned rim glasses. Anyways, her aversion to those books presented me with an opportunity to make some cash. Them books was hard to get, so I let be known I could help a man out getting em’ for the right price. Wasn’t long ‘for I got a call from some fruitcake from Seattle. He wanted the copy of Excruciations, said it’d "open doorways" and make him stronger as the moon got full or some other such bullshit. I didn’t care though. ‘cos he was meetin me at the Knoxville airport with enough money to keep me drunk in Mexico until my liver gave out.
Like I said, I knew the route so I was haulin’ ass when I saw a big log in the road. I hit that sombitch dead-on, and rolled my truck into a ditch. I might have blacked out, dunno. when I knew may ass from a hole in the ground I drug myself out of the truck got to my feet as fast as I could: I had to make sure I was still walkin’. I picked up The Excruciations of Khons and stuck it inside my shirt, zipped up my jacket and staggered down the road, knowin' damn good and well there weren’t no human habitation for fifteen, twenty miles. I must of walked for an hour two, cussin’ goddamn "occult enthusiasts" every step of the way, when I came up on the camp fire. There was three "good ‘ol boys" gathered around a little fire built about two foot off the edge of the road. There was a big ‘ol mountain of lard with a beard and a trucker hat, grinning at me through a mouthful of King B Twist, a short beady eyed, bullet headed man with a goatee and wet, fishy-lookin’ lips, and a wiry, tattooed joker in a wife beater and a mullet. Behind ‘em , about ten feet back was one them ‘ol airstream trailers, might have been nice at one time, looked like pure-t-shit now, all rusted out and filthy. They had 'em an old boom box sittin on a cooler between ‘em, playin’ classic rock.
"How y’all doin?" I ventured, "My name’s Sonny McCracken, I done wrecked my truck back down the road a bit, you boys got a phone I could use?" "We ain’t got any damn phone." the mullet slurred at me. I knew where this was goin’ alright. But I went ahead and tried to get out of it. "That’s fine fellas, I’ll just keep walkin’. I didn’t get one step before that fat bastard, with a damn high-pitched girly voice, says, "you ain’t goin’ no goddamn where!" and punched me in the side of the head so damn hard it probably killed my livestock.
Then they commenced to whoopin’ my ass. I’ve had my ass whooped before, probably worse than that, but I didn’t see no reason for me to have to listen to that tub ‘o lard singin’ along with Don’t Pull Your Love Out on Me, Baby while they did it. Way I figure it, them ‘ol boys must’ve been cookin’ some meth or growin ‘em some weed back in there, and didn’t want me rattin’ ‘em out. Or they just might ‘a been the kind o’ mean sonsabitches that got off hurtin’ people.
Once they wore theirself out beatin’ on me, lardass says "whatcha wanna do wit’ him now Peanut?" The mullet-head, who was apparently Peanut, replied, "You help me carry him back to the rocks Tater. Junebug," this would be the sawed of bullet-head sumbitch, "you go to to th’ trailer and get that can o’ gas."
I’d like to say I never thought I’d end up getting’ murdered by men named Peanut, Junebug, and Tater, but I can’t honestly say it was a surprise. They drug me through the woods fer a spell, and directly we came into a clearing. There was big gray rocks sittin’ around roughly in a circle. They drug me out in the middle of ‘em and dumped me.
"You gonna shoot him Peanut?"
"Can’t shoot him, Tater, somebody might hear. Reckon we’re gonna have to have ourselves a barbecue." Tater started giggling’ like a damn schoolgirl and Junebug starts coming at me, takin the lid off that gas can. I wasn’t even in good enough shape to tell ‘em to fuck off.
Then a voice pipes up from behind me, it was a woman’s voice, but there was something’ bad wrong with it. Kinda made you feel like ants was on ya. Anyways this voice says; "what took you so long? You shouldn’t keep a lady waiting." I turned around, real slow on account of havin’ my ribs kicked in and such, I turned around expectin’ to see some ‘ol road whore that one o’ these assholes was nailin’, but that turned out not to be the case at all. There was a woman loungin’ on one o’ them rocks like one o’ them bathin’ beauties they used to paint on planes back in world war two. But I can’t honestly call her a beauty. She was built good enough, but she had a hide like a damn copperhead, all red scales. She had long black hair like a horse’s mane blowin everywhich way, and her head was all spiky like one o’ them horned toads ya see out west. She had big glowin’ yellow eyes, and she was grinning’ at us. There was something’ bad wrong with her mouth, her lips and teeth were all stained red like she’d been chewin’ on …well, chewin’ on stuff. She slid sown off o' that rock and stood there. Peanut was lookin at her all slack jawed. He’d pulled one them big .44 desert eagles and was brandishin’ that big sumbitch like he was Lee Marvin. "Bitch you done fucked up real bad. Get her Tater!" Tater squeals like a sow and takes off toward the snake woman, belly floppin all the way; she sidesteps him and spins around. She put her hand on the back of his head a pushed his face on into that rock, it made a sick wet thud when he hit. It musta mashed his face real good cos he fell over on the ground. Twitchin’ and makin a gurgly, buzzin’ noise.
Junebug went after her next; he’d dropped the gas can and pulled out a big buck knife. He gets up to her and she grabs him by the neck and lifts him up in the air. He stabbed her in the face, and I’ll be damned if the damn blade didn’t snap off at the grip. She says something to the effect of. "Ouch! You little bastard!" and with not much more than a flick of the wrist, throws that sumbitch so high I lost sight of him in the dark. It got real quiet then, and I never did hear Junebug hit the ground.
I rolled myself over behind one of the closer rocks, ‘cos Peanut starts opening’ up with that hand cannon. He fired seven shots off. I didn’t see it all but I glanced up a few times between duckin’. Them bullets was ricocheting’ off that ol’ girl’s chest like she was George Reeves or something’ makin’ that high pitched squeal like in the westerns. She was grinning’ the whole time, like it was some kind of cute joke. Peanut had really lost it by then, screamin’ all kinda unintelligible shit. He walks right up to her and puts that gun about five inches from her face and pulls the trigger. She just stood there, her head didn’t even snap back. Peanut’s arm drops down limp and he steps back. I see a dark spot on his wife beater, on his left side right below the ribs, that spot start’s spreadin’ out getting’ bigger. Damned if that bullet didn’t bounce off that snake-woman’s face and hit Peanut. He starts choking’, blood oozing’ out of his mouth. He tried to say somethin’ then keeled over.
Now that crazy bitch turns her attention to me. She walks up to me and I see her face dead on. I see it ain’t her head that was all spiky; she’s wearin’ some kinda weird helmet. And those yellow eyes weren’t her real eyes; they were some kinda lenses, like goggles. One of em got broke durin’ the knifin’ and shootin’. She’s lookin at me and I can see one o’ her real eyes, and I was wishin’ to hell that lens hadn’t a broke. I figure I was pretty tough up to that point. But there comes a time when a man reaches his breaking point, and I very obviously had reached mine. I was bawlin’ when I said, "I ain't with them. Leave me alone I ain’t done nothin’ to you!" "Calm down, Sonny" she says, callin’ me by name, "I’m not here to hurt you, you know what I want." before I could reply or otherwise comment, ‘ol Peanut pipes up again. "You goddamn bitch. Ya killed me. I been shot. You gotta help me. I need…I need a doctor." I don't reckon she much cared for that. "You want help, Peanut?" she says, then walks over and picks up and sets him on his feet. He looked like death, all bleedin' and pale and his eyes glazin’ over. I’d a felt bad for him if I didn’t know him to be a murderous sonofabitch. "You want help?" she asks him in that damn voice, "you’ve been a brutal, sadistic monster from the time you were old enough to crush a kitten, Peanut, you’re a killer, Peanut, a rapist, a torturer. Anyone weaker than you who was unfortunate enough to come under you power suffered didn’t they peanut? You especially liked to hurt women didn’t you? Because of your mother. Well guess what, you can’t hurt me, Peanut. I’m stronger than you and you can’t hurt me. And no one will help you because you’re a rabid animal who needs to die. I won’t help you. Sonny here won’t help you. You want to help him Sonny? No, Sonny won’t help you Peanut."
"James." he said
That lizard woman cocked her head toward him like she was hard o’ hearin’. "What’s that Peanut?"
"My names James!" he hollered "James Lovingood. Not Peanut, you goddamn whore!"
"well that’s fine." she replied, grinnin’ that awful stained grin of hers. "You can tell that to the devil when you pay him off in sweet potatoes to let you into hell. Now I tell you what, Peanut, why don’t you try to drag your carcass down to that shithole trailer of yours and see if you can call for help. Or maybe find another gun to try and shoot me with." she let him drop then, and he crawled off.
She turned back to me again’ and I spoke my mind. "I know who you are." I said. "Do you now? Who am I?" I swallowed hard, scared shitless. "They call you different stuff. Dragonlady, Blood Witch, Blood Lotus, different stuff. They talk about you all the time over at Sizemore. I figured you was one o' them urban myths like Bigfoot or the Decatur Dogman. Guess you ain’t." she licked her damn lips at me; her tongue was that red color too. "What do they say about me, Sonny?"
"They say you kill folks. Reckon that’s the damn truth."
"Well," she says, "as you would probably say, 'nobody that don’t have it comin.'" I was about to lose it, and my voice was crackin’ when I asked, "Do I have it comin’?" She put her hands on her hips and stretched, like she was ready for a nap. And she sighed, "Just give me the damn book, Sonny." I nodded, and took out The Excruciations of Khons. "You got it sister." she reached out for it, curling out her fingers like one of them actors what played Dracula. She took the book and walked off. "You gonna leave me out here alone?" I asked. She just nodded. then she jumped straight up into the air. And outta sight.
Never heard her hit the ground either.
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