Urban Horror 1

This is a horror exercise I've been working on.

Chapter 1: It can always get worse.

Jack stepped out of the car and zipped up his coat. Brooklyn was always cold in the fall, but this far south, so close to the water, the wind was freezing. With shivering hands, he lit a cigarrette, and went off to find the right address.

A little over an hour ago he had been warm amd snug in his office, sipping coffee and watching the game, and now he was freezing his balls off trying to find an underground porn studio.

These studios were floating, always on the move from one location to the next to avoid the law. Not that what they did was that illegal per sé, but federal law conserning adult film was always tricky. Or so Jack had been told. One of his old buddies from the army, Brody, was making money hand over fist producing porn, while Jack tried to make ends meet as a private dick. It was Brody's desperate call that brought Jack down to the cold warehouse district at half past ten, very much in the p.m.

Jack rounded a corner and spotted a large nasty looking guy pacing restlessly outside a steel door. The man saw Jack and said 'You Brodys friend?'

Jack flicked the remains of his smoke into the gutter and simply nodded. The guy grunted and heaved the heavy door open.

As Jack stepped inside he noticed three things immediately. One, it was scorching hot inside, especially coming in from the cold. Two, the whole place reeked of a nasty combo of booze, sweat and old sex, and Three, everyone looked like they had just been punched in the gut. All big eyes and startled, tense body language.

From the outside, the building looked like any one of the thousands of old school brick warehouses that dotted the district, but inside it was quite different. The main area was sectioned off by walls and decorated in varying styles like the habitat decorations at Ikea. If Ikea mainly sold beds and sex toys that is. At a quick glance, Jack counted nine mini sets. Pretty industrious he thought, as he was ushered through the area and past the staring people. He noticed that most of the girls were either on the verge of tears or quietly sobbing, while the guys mainly looked angry and scared.

Beyond the studio area, Jack found a dim corridor with lots of dark green doors, one which was ajar, and next to the door stood Brody. At 6'4” Brody was a sizeable guy, but tonight he looked deflated and very very tired.

'Jack,' he shouted, 'Thank fucking God you came. I really need your help here man, I'm seriously up shit creek and the paddle is firmly wedged in my ass.'

Jack supressed a grin, something told him this was not going to be pretty. He shook Brodys hand and said, 'I got here as fast as I could. What's the deal buddy?'

Brody rubbed a meaty hand over his face. 'I don't know.' He saw the look on Jack's face and added, 'I swear, I can't explain this, but I need help to get a handle on it. Look for yourself, but just so you know, it's bad.'

Jack nodded and squeezed past Brody. A sickly stench seeped out from beyond the door, cutting through the smell from the studio. He nudged the door open with his foot and peeked inside. A makeshift dressing room. Foldable furniture, bare lights, piles of make-up and clothes scattered everywhere, but what made Jack rear back and smack his head against the door was the thing on the back wall. The thing resembled a butchered hog but had been a living breathing woman that same morning. She was naked apart from a pair of black panties, but what really drew Jacks attention was not her voluptuous flesh, but rather the two huge iron spikes that had penetrated through her eyes and nailed her head to the wall just below the ceiling.

'What the fucking fuck?' Jack stared at Brody, who shrugged.

'Told you it was bad,' he said. 'I told you, I have no idea, none, what's going on, but you gotta help me, man. You owe me.'

Jack felt his stomach do a little dance. It was true, he did owe Brody big time. He closed the door and leaned against it. Somehow he got a cigarrette lit, and some of the hot smoke down his lungs. Calmer he asked, 'Well, what can you tell me? Who is she?' he nodded towards the door. 'Give me something to go on here.'

Brody lit a cigarrette of his own, and smoked for a little while before answering. 'Her name is, was Candy Cane,' he caught Jacks look. 'Yeah I know, all the talent want a special name, but it's not like we pay anyone with checks, so who cares? Her name was Candy and that's that. Anyway, she came in late tonight, and I sent her back here to get ready, you know? All the other girls were already in costume, so I went over the scene with them while we waited. Only she never came back, so I sent Kayla to go get her. Sometimes they can have some trouble with the lingerie, and sometimes it's drugs, or feminine problems, but best to always send a girl to get a girl. A minute later we all hear Kayla screaming like someone's trying to rip her arm off, and me and a couple of the guys bolt over. Thought maybe some creep had managed to sneak in and was trying to get a little taste. Rare, but it happens. I'm charged up, ready to kick some ass, but I find the door open, Kayla sitting pretty much where you're standing, still screaming. I look in and... fuck it. Slammed the door, and called you.'

Jack nodded. 'Where's Kayla now?'

'Gave her some pills and had the sound guy drive her home. Told everyone Candy killed herself. Had to say something, everyone heard the screaming. Better send the rest home too, yeah?'

Jack nodded again, took a deep breath before opening the door. He had seen some deeply disturbing things during his time in the army, even more so in his short time with the NYPD, but the way Candy hung on the wall, apparently unharmed except for the spikes through her eye sockets made him sick to the core. He stepped inside carefully, aware that no one had been inside since the killer. No one since the killer! Shit, he could still be here! The room was cluttered with racks of costumes, the stained sofa wasn't flush against the wall and the shoddy lighting left deep shadows in the corners. Plenty of places to hide.

Quietly Jack pulled out his piece, a dark solid 9mm semi-auto, and began looking through the room. He kicked the racks to the side and peered carefully around the room. With a sigh of relief he holstered the gun. No one there. He reluctantly turned his attention to the deceased.

He guessed Candy had been in her late twenties, had worked out on occasion, and had gotten a pretty decent boob job a few years ago. The ceiling wasn't all that high back here, but it was still a good eleven feet from the floor, and Candy's head was pressed to the ceiling. How the hell did he manage to do this? She must weigh at least onefifty. Consious she's struggling, knocked out or dead, she's limp. What the hell is going on?

He turned to Brody, who was leaning against the door jamb pointedly not looking at Candy. 'You'd notice if three beefy guys moved around here with a ladder, right?' he asked.

'Very fucking funny!' Brody snorted. 'We don't let anyone in that don't belong. Yeah, sometimes depending on the site, someone might be able to sneak in, but three guys? No way man, no fucking way!'

'Well, I can see no other way of getting a girl up there like that with any less than three guys, and they'd all have to be standing on something.' Jack looked closer at her upper body. 'Huh, weird.' he said. 'There's no bruising under her arms or around her neck.'

'What's so weird about that?' Brody asked. 'Candy didn't do bondage.'

'No,' Jack answered. 'Think for a moment. How would you hold her, to get her up there? You can't put that kind of pressure on the skin without leaving marks, and she's got none. Blood clots quickly postmortem, and that leaves vivid bruises.

They both looked at her hanging there. 'You're not calling the cops I take it?'

Brody shook his head. 'Can't. Way too much illegal stuff going on here. Even if they didn't try to pin this on us, which they would and I couldn't blame them, we'd all head straight to big house. Just going to have to bury her somewhere quiet I guess. I know some guys that can handle that, but I want to, no, I need to know how this happened, and you're going to find out for me.' He held up a meaty hand before Jack could argue. 'I'll pay you five grand a month plus expenses, ok?'

The protests died on Jacks lips. 'Yeah, ok.' he said. He needed the money way too much to walk. 'Let's get out of here.'

Just as they were leaving the room, they both heard a soft scraping sound from behind. Jack glanced over his shoulder and bumped violently into Brody. Candys limbs were slowly contracting upwards and as they gawked in horror, her mouth dropped open and she moaned. Before either man understood what was happening, Candy braced herself against the wall and with a wet crunch and a high pitched squeal launched herself across the room. She crashed, arms stretched out, straight into Jack, and they went down in a heap. The impact jarred him out of his shock and he just managed to hold her back as she, giggling madly, tried to tear out his throat with her teeth. Jack tried to throw her off, but she had her legs clamped against his sides and was still trying to sink her teeth into his jugular. Her fingernails dug painfully into his shoulders and inch by inch, pulled her mouth closer, until her slimy tongue flicked across his cheek. She giggled again, and he felt the hard, sharp points of her canines scrape across his skin. He screamed and with a desperate burst of adrenaline got her head up and to the side. A violent explosion tore through the cramped area, and the front of her head erupted in a red shower all over Jacks face. Instantly, she went limp, pinning him to the floor, blood pooling around them.

Hot water, strong soap, and a large amount of scotch later, Jack lay back on a couch. Brody had managed to wrap Candys body in a tarp, and nameless men had taken the carcass away for disposal. The money Brody was offering was damn good, but deep down he knew, if he didn't solve this, he'd never be able to sleep with the lights off again. 

Continued in Chapter 2