Cutthroat Heroes Read online

  A bright light swallowed me up. I put my hands above my eyes.

  It's all real, I thought. Heaven. God. Satan. All real.

  I thought of my life...and sighed.

  Now here it all comes.

  The big swallow.

  PHIL

  What was happening? Did I realize I was yelling about snakes? That I was killing people? I chased after Fran – all through those woods – screaming at her, threatening her, pleading with her. “Just stop running! Why drag this out any longer? I'm gonna catch you soon enough! Save us both time and just give up!”

  I stopped to catch my breath, hands on my knees. That was it. I lost. She was gone. Now what? Go back? No...I had to find her. I had to keep looking. I needed peace. She had to die.

  “Where are you!” I yelled. “God, help me! Help me kill this demonnnnn!”

  Something exploded above me, lighting up the sky. I saw Fran – standing there – right next to me, against a tree. She was covered in mud, the whites of her eyes staring out at me.

  The UFO crashed through the treetops, right toward us.

  We ran here and there, ducking the falling pieces of metal and fireballs. The UFO hit the ground, shaking the planet, sending me flying off my feet. I kept thinking, Fran, Fran, Fran, Fran. Getting away!

  I almost stumbled into a burning bush. Screams for help. Two people on fire ran out of the UFO, crashed right into the trees, setting them ablaze. A rock hit me in the face. Fran jumped down from a tree and bit me, ripping off a chunk of my neck. I tripped over some animal and landed on my face, right in mud. Fran stood in front of me, holding my butcher's knife above her head. Trees fell all around her. She yelled through the raging fire.

  “You filthy bastard! Why didn't you just let me be??? Look what you've done. Look what you've turned me into! Is this your idea of love???”

  I spat in her face. She kicked me in the chest.

  “Useless!” she said, crying. “Look at you....Pathetic! You have no money, no future – no car. You're useless to me!”

  She walked toward me as she spoke, still holding that blade in the air with both hands. It was getting so noisy with flames, she was literally screaming her words.

  “YOU'RE USELESS TO ME!”

  I crawled back.

  A sharp whizzzzzz sound shot through the air.

  Something blasted through Fran's chest. She dropped the knife and looked down at the situation.

  It was a spear.

  She gripped it...and turned around.

  Someone naked ran out of the woods.

  Carmen.

  She picked up the knife and grinned. She said, “Finally!” and cut Fran's head off in one go. She picked it up and tossed it into the burning UFO.

  I stood up, weeping. “I can't believe it,” I said, shaking my head. “It's you. It's really you. You're alive!”

  I walked over to hug her. Last I remember, she was looking at me all weird.

  I wanted to kiss her. Tell her how sorry I was for all of the confusion – explain that Fran put a curse on me. It was all her fault. She was dead. The wicked witch was dead. Now we could live happily ever after. I saw us together – married, tons of children. We'd grow old together. Die together, in love.

  “Baby!” I said, “I missed you!”

  I ran to her.

  CARMEN

  The sky blew up. Can you believe it? Another sign! I ran after that fireball....God was helping me find Fran and Phil – leading the way. I was blessed! I found them outside that burning UFO. They were hugging and kissing and rubbing and pinching each other. I ran up to them. Phil saw me and jumped back – LAUGHING at me – laughing and pointing. Before Fran could figure out what he was going on about, I threw my spear through her back.

  She turned around...giggling.

  The sky flashed with lightning and a bolt struck the ground, leaving behind a huge butcher's knife. I picked it up.

  “Finally!”

  I cut Fran's head off, but it still laughed!

  I threw it into the fire, into the UFO wreckage.

  Phil was standing there, crying, hands over his mouth. He shook his fists at me, punched the air, gave a real fit, reminded me of a spoiled baby. “You killed my lover!” He ran toward me, screaming, “I'm gonna kill you!”

  I yanked the spear out of Fran's body and ran it into Phil and lifted him off his feet and threw him into the fire – spear included (I didn't need it anymore). He danced around in there, cooking, giggling...kissing Fran's head. Then he just stood there, stiff and dead. I fell to my knees.

  “It's all over,” I said. “I am at peace.”

  I walked into town, looking for some clothes.

  Some ruffians tried to give me static, but I shoved some spears in them. That seemed to shut them up real good. I found some clothing store called Horse's. I threw a rock at the window and climbed in and took this nice, red dress.

  Cops showed up and wrestled me to the ground and threw me in jail. They asked me so many questions, I got a nose bleed. I kept responding to them, but they didn't like what they were hearing – said I was acting retarded, that I was crazy, talking gibberish.

  Next thing I knew, I was in the nut house. Each morning, they'd put me in a bathtub of cold water and give me shock therapy. My doctor would always drag me into his office and ask what my name was and where I was from; and then he'd show me a few inkblots and demand I tell him what I saw. I was always honest, just like how I was with those cops, but everything I said just angered him. He always shook his head and said into a phone, “All gibberish. Someone call an exorcist.”

  He said I wasn't making any sense.

  So it was off to the tub with me.

  On and on this went: Shock treatment, same questions, inkblots, confusion, sadness, repeat....

  One day, they shocked me and all the lights in the place blew out. I yelled at one of the doctors that there was an angry, murderous clown waiting to kill him at his house, but this doctor just slapped me, not believing me, told me to shut up. An hour later, he was on the news, stabbed to death in his home by a disgruntled clown.

  I didn't get anymore shock treatments after that whole thing.

  Nah.

  After that, they just kept me in my room. Stuck tubes up my nose and drove wires through my scalp.

  Strrrrange world.

  I remember being in bed and hearing music. My nurse was playing guitar. I asked what song she was playing.

  “Ah!” she said. “Fernando Sor. 'Study in B minor, Opus 35, No. 22'. Do you like it?”

  “It's beautiful,” I said. “When I get out of here...I'm going to learn it.”

  Months later, my doctor comes into my padded cell and starts kissing me and touching me. I let him. I missed being liked that way. Made me feel all fuzzy inside. It was nice. Some days, he even made me dinner. He'd sneak me out and take me to his place and make love to me. He'd promise me nice things – how he was going to steal me away one day and make things all better.

  “We can live in New York,” he'd always say. “Would you like that?”

  He said I was talented, and that I could make us a lot of money. We'd live like royalty!

  But no, I wouldn't be in that mental place for long. A miracle happened. Yes, another one. I told you, I was being looked after. God got me out of there. He sent down one of his finest! That Pope waved around a document and ordered my freedom, pushed around a few doctors, made things happen.

  I have a job now.

  That Pope needed me. He said I was taking over someone's position, you understand....Said the other woman died of old age. Said she was 120! Worked for him for over fifty years. Amazing....

  I can see things from faraway. My doctor calls it remote viewing. If the Pope needs to know something about someone, he gives me something to draw on, and I show him where said person is, and what they're doing. It's good being useful. I feel loved.

  My doctor is with me, too. He watches over me. Makes sure I get my medication. He bought me
a classical guitar, and I've been playing it ever since. It relaxes me. Makes me sane. I have to remember to thank that nurse for telling me about that song. It's all I ever play. It's my medicine. Sometimes the Pope parks the van out by a stream and I sit and play for everyone. They all enjoy it. They all smile and clap. It's wonderful....And I don't need anything else. Just that song. I don't need anyone else. Just that song. I am in love with it.

  “Fernando Sor. 'Study in B minor, Opus 35, No. 22'.”

  Raymund Hensley is the author of Filipino Vampire, Get Kilt: A Zombie Pill, and Weredolphin. He lives in Honolulu, Hawaii.

  https://raymundhensley.blogspot.com/

  https://twitter.com/RaymundHensley

  https://www.facebook.com/BossHospital

  ALSO BY

  Raymund Hensley

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