Sunday, July 1, 2018

The Madam Of Suburbia Chapter 18

Chapter 18 – The Message 

       There's one inevitable fucking truth in this world regardless of who or what you worship, and that is one day Death will cut you the fuck down. You can spend every damn day on your knees praying, but you'll never escape that moment when the flames of your life are snuffed out by the cold winds of decay. When it does happen, we all hope it's peaceful and painless: a nap you never woke up. Other times, it can be quick like the pull of cold steel as the last thing that you ever experience is a bullet into your fucking head. The worst kind of demise is the long, drawn out affair where every moment is full of pain and agony until Death brings relief to your tortured soul. Either way, once your number is up, there's shit you can do but accept your fate.
       Today, I face the final moments that no fucking human wants to face, or curse on their fellow man. I find myself standing in the doorway of a dark bedroom chain-smoking cigarette after cigarette as I'm forced to relive my first meeting with Madam as hanging from the ceiling is my friend Theodore "Chulupa" Matthews. His body is bounded by chains to boards as steel rebar was jammed through his hands and feet. The makeshift cross is hung by chains from the roof as his blood was collected into a steel barrel cut in half. I can fucking imagine crucifixion is a shitty way to go, but he wasn't just fucking crucified like Jesus was. I almost throw up as I try to count the various blades shoved into almost every inch of his body, included the foot long nails shoved into his eye sockets. Madam has sent us a message, and sadly Chulupa is the fucking messenger.
       "What a mess," Amber asks while standing next to me as we watch Richard take photos of the scene. "No wonder the local sheriff called us in."
       "Madam's handy work," I spat as I light up another cigarette.
       "Mind if I ask how you knew the victim?"
       "Theodore 'Chulupa' Matthews. He was one of the best botanist ever, and loved his chulupas," I reply. "One of the few people I called friend."
       "Botanist," Richard snorts. "Fancy way to say he grew marijuana."
       I ignore the prick as I wonder if reaching out to anyone was a wise idea. Far as Madam knew, I died at that charity event. Now, because a few calls, my friend ended up being another fucking sadistic pincushion a week after that Curva pig was spotted in Atlanta.  I realize that once you're in Madam's clutches, the grave is the only way to truly escape. As I stare at Chulupa, I realize that I'm truly on borrowed time. Madam is going to be calling to collect my debt very soon, and my damned soul is payment.
       As Amber studies the multiple knives sticking out of the corpse, I see a red LED turn on above Chulupa's makeshift cross.
       "Amber, above the cross, a light just turned on," I state as I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
       She turns on a flashlight, and shines it on the ceiling as we discover there's a security camera attached to the ceiling.
       "Hello, Ronnie," comes Madam's voice from the camera. "For a dead man, you're a busy person."
       As Amber continues to shine the light around the camera, I almost shit myself when I see wires coming from the camera down to Chulupa's torso. It might be nothing, but I motion for everyone to start exiting the house quickly by pointing towards the front door as I reply, "I'm doing Satan's work."
       "Now, Ronnie. Don't lie. You no longer work for me since you decided to betray my trust."
       "Well, shit happened, and they offered me a deal that doesn't involve my soul being damned for eternity."
       "I'm about to send you and many more damned souls to Hell in ten..."
       "Everyone get the fuck out!" I shout. As I'm turning around, there's a sharp crack sound as something hits me in the chest as I begin to exit the house, almost tackling Richard in the process. Richard and I are the last two to scramble out of the small house as Madam keeps counting down. We barely have time to duck behind the cars parked against the curb with everyone else as the house explodes in a massive fireball. The shock wave of the blast knocks out all the windows in the cars, showering us in shards of glass. I look around to see everyone else made out safely, but the street is filled with burning debris. Amber tries to say something, but the ringing in my ears has made me deaf. She points to my chest with a look of horror on her face.
       I glance down, and see blood gushing from my chest. If the bomb didn't finish me off, she had a backup plan as I realize that sharp crack was a gunshot. Whoever installed the camera hid a remote control gun in there as well. The room was a set up to make sure today was my last day on this wretched planet. I begin to feel lightheaded as Amber rips off her shirtsleeves, and pressing them against my chest as she starts yelling. I can't make out anything as the ringing gets louder in my ears. I see Richard on the phone as Amber keeps her hands pressed hard on both sides of my torso as I start coughing. I almost puke as I taste the iron ting of blood.
       I try to say something as blood starts trickling from my mouth. I always knew that I would meet Death because of a bullet, but didn't see it happening this way. As I lean against the car watching the chaos unfolded around me, Amber kisses my forehead as I feel her tears fall onto my neck. Even though she ripped my heart out, she's crying as I struggle to stay conscious. I smile as I see an ambulance rushing towards us as she words, "I still love you."
       As my eyes begin to get heavy, I notice Richard is holding his pistol as he approaches us with a smirk across his face. I tap Amber and motion towards Richard, but he puts his pistol back into the shoulder holster before she can turn around. I begin to think as I feel the cold grip of Death's hand on my shoulder that the fucking bastard shot me. He stands over me still smirking while Amber does her best to slow down my bleeding as I slowly to slip into unconsciousness. The last thing I see is Richard making a slicing motion across his throat.

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