Paint the Town Red

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Jack parked his truck I looked over at Samantha. “Looks like someone’s discovered our party shack.” Mike leaned forward from the back seat, “we’ve got plenty of beer.” Kya turned on a few battery-operated lanterns and passed them to her friends. She rolled her eyes, “Jack, you’ll talk to them about the candle? Those boards are over a hundred years old. If a draft blows, the whole place goes up.” Jack nodded, “I’ll take care of it.” Mike and Jack carried the cooler into the sitting room while Kya dusted off the couch. “Looks like whoever was here forgot to put it out before they left, because the place is empty. Who’s cabin is this anyway?” she asked sitting at the end of the couch. Samantha shot her a sideways glance, “it’s the old CIA safe house.” Mike saw Kya’s eyes widen in surprise. He laughed and flopped on the couch next to her opening a beer, “Gather round ladies! It’s time for Jack to tell the story of Billy the Butcher.”

Jack grabbed the candle and walked over to join his friends with a wicked grin, “The best scary stories are told around a campfire, but the candle will just have to do tonight…” Kya crowded closer to Mike and Samantha pulled a newspaper clipping out of her pocket. She held it between her first two fingers and slyly smiled at Jack before laying it next to the candle, “for the end of the story.” Mike slowly turned off each battery-operated lantern in a dramatic fashion. Jack leaned over the candle so it exaggerated his features before hauntingly beginning his tale…

“In the summer of 1905, young Billy Morgan, the oldest of nine, was apprenticing at his father’s leather shop. Billy’s pop was the best leather tanner on the east side. Business was booming and everyone knew it. One day, two mobsters came in demanding Billy’s pop pay them $20 for ‘protection.’ He refused and they roughed him up a bit. The next week, they came around asking for $30. Billy’s pop paid the guys and they left him alone. In a couple of months, they were asking for $100 a week. No matter how hard Billy and his pop worked, they couldn’t make an extra $400 a month. That week, his pop told them he couldn’t keep paying them. Billy watched them brutally beat his father to death with his own tools. He ran home sobbing to his mother, still covered in his pop’s blood, and explained the whole story. She cleaned him up without a shred of emotion and told him to go to work tomorrow to try to pay the men. Billy was enraged and stormed out. Like clockwork, two henchmen from the rival mafia were walking by Billy’s house–probably got word he was tough and had a score to settle–and invited him to dinner. The rest is history. He single-handedly killed over half the other mob’s thugs and a dozen others. It was like he was reliving the trauma; he beat them to death with whatever was nearby…killed a mechanic with a wrench, put a baker’s head in an oven, and even suffocated a banker by shoving dollar bills down his throat.”

Kya paled and Mike put an arm around her, “Billy the Butcher isn’t for everyone.” Jack continued, “He was a real sicko. Rumor is, he enjoyed blood so much, he’d take home fleshy souvenirs to his wife and ask her to scrape the blood off his arms to add to their stew.” Kya sat dazed, “Why would she do that!” Mike chuckled, “Would you say no to Billy the Butcher?” Kya shook her head and Jack continued, “Eventually, the CIA caught up to him. They had enough to give him the chair, but Billy didn’t really care. Then, one hotshot agent built the case that his wife could be tried as an accomplice for destroying evidence.” Samantha sat back and looked at Jack, “How were they going to prove that?” “They rented an apartment across the alley and took pictures of her scraping the blood into the stew. Anyway, Billy wasn’t about to let his wife go to jail. In his own twisted way, he loved her. Not to mention the children…”

Samantha elbowed Jack, “You’re making that up! I’m an expert on Billy the Butcher and that isn’t in any of the papers or biographies. They just said he was afraid, so he rolled on everyone, straight up to the boss.” Jack smirked, “Of course it isn’t in the papers. My grandfather spilled his guts once he got dementia. He kept it out of the official documents as part of the plea deal. He didn’t want them to come after our family for squeezing their best butcher. Gramps said Billy kept threatening him privately and muttered something about making a deal with the devil to solve his problem. He never really explained…he was in and out at that point.” Kya timidly asked, “What happened to Billy after he snitched on the mob?” Jack continued, “They brought his family to this very safehouse to keep him hidden in witness protection.”

Samantha grabbed the paper off the table and continued, “Evening News, August 15, 1922…exactly 100 years ago…‘In the early hours this morning, the notorious mobster and informant Billy the Butcher was located in a CIA safe house. His wife and children were murdered quickly. They lined them up and shot them outside the cabin in front of him, but Billy died an agonizing death. The details of his brutal murder are not suitable for this publication. Agents discovered his body near the fireplace this afternoon. It remains unclear how the mafia knew Billy’s location.’” Mike leaned closer to Kya, “Looks like Jack’s gramps ratted out the rat.” Samantha interjected, “We don’t know that…don’t go accusing gramps of something when we have no proof.”

Mike snickered, clearly trying to scare Kya further, “I wonder if the blood stain is still on the floorboards. There’s a strangely placed rug next to the fireplace.” Jack grabbed the candle, “Only one way to find out.” The four friends huddled around the dusty frayed rug as Mike stepped on it. He slid his foot back to reveal weathered boards stained in black crimson splotches. In an unnatural voice, Jack whispered, “For 100 years Billy the Butcher’s blood has drenched these floorboards. Is his spirit still trapped within them?” Samantha shifted uneasily and Mike searched Jack’s eyes for signs he was messing with Kya, who shook with ever-growing goosebumps. Jack blew out the candle and Kya began sobbing. Mike laughed and turned his lantern back on. He choked back a gasp as he caught sight of the translucent figure before him. A man in his forties, with lumberjack forearms, neatly tucked inside a pinstripe suit jacket narrowed his eyes with a menacing glare. “Not anymore.”

Mike grabbed the keys off the table and ran for the door. It slammed shut before he reached it and Mike frantically tried to shove it open with his shoulder. Billy slowly walked over to him and proceeded to take the keys from him. In grisly fashion, Billy used brute force to jam the keys into Mike’s chest. Jack grabbed Billy’s arm, but he shrugged him off as a nuisance, elbowing him into the wall hard enough to knock him out momentarily. Billy then proceeded to pry Mike’s heart out with the keys. He held it delicately in one hand and jammed his other thumb into one of the arteries. Billy brought his dripping thumb to his mouth and smiled as he tasted its smooth metallic honey. Samantha tried frantically to wake Jack and carried him with Kya to the bedroom.

When he came to, Jack began sputtering, “He…Mike…He jus- I…” Samantha put a hand over his mouth, “Shh. He’ll hear you.” Kya turned on her lantern and froze when she saw shadows shifting around them. Looking up, she noticed a mirror beside them. Billy was standing behind their reflection gnashing his teeth, “I hear everything.” Samantha turned around quickly to find nothing but an empty closet. As she did, an arm glowed from the mirror and wrapped around her neck. Samantha struggled to breathe against the frame until a second hand bashed her head into the glass. The shattered pieces fell around her as she splayed on the ground. Billy appeared in front of her and kicked her head into the wall. He lifted her by her shirt collar, stunned and half-conscious. He jammed a large shard into her spine and Samantha’s legs went limp. A swift toss landed her sitting on a bench where Billy joined her. Placing an arm around her shoulder, he slowly sliced along her clavicle. He gently kissed along her collarbone and drank the blood gushing from it. “Thanks doll. I was thirsty.” Patting her shoulder he added, “You’re alright kid.” Samantha’s eyes rolled to the back of her head and Billy shoved her face-first onto the ground before vanishing.

Jack ran to her, tears falling into the pool of blood surrounding her, and tried to shake her. Billy’s reflection appeared in the shard protruding from her spine. “How does it feel to watch the love of your life slump over and die?” Jack instinctually grabbed the shard, slicing his hand open in the process, “Why are you doing this?! WHY?!” Billy’s stare burned through Jack, “You know why…” Jack shook his head, “No…no…what gramps did has nothing to do with me. I wasn’t even born!” Billy calmly adjusted his suit jacket, “He did it for you, so you’re just as guilty.”

Billy disappeared from the shard and Kya sat on the bed with her knees tucked to her chest sobbing, “I want to go home…I just want to go home…this isn’t happening…this can’t be real…this—” She stiffened and stared at Jack wide-eyed as she felt an arm wrap around her shoulders. Billy’s translucent features softened slightly as he comforted her. “Shh. It’s okay—Kya, right? I won’t hurt you. I just need you to wait quietly while I finish with Jack.” Kya nodded silently, hardly able to breathe. Billy calmly reached into his suit jacket and showed Jack an ornate hunting knife. “A gift from your grandfather for agreeing to testify. He got me on seventy-two counts and my wife on fifteen. I intend to give all eighty-seven strikes back to that backstabbing son of a bitch.”

Billy pinned Jack to the ground and stuffed a rag in his mouth to silence him. Almost methodically, he planned and gashed Jack repeatedly. At times Billy stopped to admire his slices and watch the blood flow from Jack’s wounds. Kya paled at the sight and felt dizzy. Muffled screams faded to a whimper as Billy continued, “fifty-five, fifty-six, fifty-seven, oh fifty-seven cut deep, that was the start of the racketeering charges that would have left my little ones starving on the streets…fifty-eight, fifty-nine. Exhausted by grief and sheer terror, Kya felt her world slip to black as she lost consciousness. She woke to Billy shaking her. “Wake up! I’m at eighty-six. Where should I put the final slice?” Kya saw Jack’s fading eyes strain to move toward her as he gurgled and gasped for air. The floor was soaked with his blood and she knew he couldn’t possibly survive at this point. She closed her eyes before softly answering, “Wherever will kill him the fastest.” Billy frowned, “I was hoping you’d say the pinkie. It’s more fun when they bleed out.” Kya looked away, “Please just finish him…put him out of his misery.” Billy grabbed Jack’s hair and yanked his head up, “Kya says I should kill you. That’s just swell with me.” Billy flipped the hunting knife over and used the serrated edge to saw Jack’s neck. After a few grisly moments, he tossed Jack’s head at Kya’s feet. “A present for you, doll.” Kya shrieked and Billy appeared instantly beside her with a firm hand over her mouth. “None of that.”

Billy choked Kya and lifted her into the air before casually walking into the kitchen. She barely saw her surroundings as darkness crowded the edges of her vision. Kya was abruptly jolted back to reality when her face slammed into a cabinet door. “There’s a pot in there. Get it.” Kya was shaking so hard she missed the handle the first time. Trembling, she handed Billy the pot. He scraped the blood off his arms into it. “In the second cabinet, there are a few beans. I’m starving and I could use a good stew.” Bewildered, Kya searched for the century-old beans. When she finally found them, she turned to see Billy had dragged her friends into the kitchen and was draining Mike’s blood into the pot. “Bean and blood soup?” she gagged, “I’m going to be sick.” Billy grinned, “Of course not.” Gesturing to the lifeless bodies he added, “A little organ meat and muscle too. No reason to waste a good kill.” Kya brought a hand to her mouth and swallowed hard trying not to throw up. In a brief moment of lucidity, Kya saw the keys tossed beside the door and found the courage to ask, “I’m going to throw up. May I use the bathroom.” Billy chuckled and nodded, gesturing across the cabin with Mike’s severed forearm. Kya darted toward the door, grabbed the keys in one swift motion, and raced toward the truck. She could hardly breathe and she threw the keys in the ignition and floored it in reverse. Kya’s mind raced faster than the truck as she sped toward the town.

After a dozen silent miles, the moon rose over the tree line and began illuminating the road in eerie patterns. Kya saw a shadow move across the passenger seat. Her eyes widened in a tight panic as she glanced again to find an empty seat. She shook her head and continued driving. A deep fatigue overtook her and she tried to stay awake by rolling down the windows. The wind screaming through the car brought back terrifying scenes from the cabin. The air escaped her lungs as she glanced in her rearview mirror and saw a glowing mass behind her seat. In a blink, she looked again to find an empty seat. Kya shook violently as she pulled into her driveway and darted across her lawn. Her mother was waiting up for her. Kya sobbed as she explained what happened. Her mother immediately called the police.

When the detectives arrived at the cabin, they could not find any evidence of a crime. Everything was in immaculate order and no bodies could be located. The only evidence that anyone had been there was an empty soup pot drying beside the sink. They questioned Kya and ultimately concluded she had been partying with friends when one of them slipped her some sort of drug. They took a blood sample and sent Kya home with her mother, promising to have the toxicology report in two weeks. They would find her friends and bring them in for questioning when they learned what she had been drugged with.

After a few days, Kya began wondering if they were right. She offered to do the dishes while her mother cleaned the table. Scrubbing a piece of desiccated meat off the pan, she shook, “Why would my friends go through such an elaborate hoax to traumatize me?” Her mother put a hand on her shoulder, “I have no idea. I’m as confused as you are.” Kya hugged her mother, breathing in comfort and security. Kya began scrubbing a pot as her mother returned to the table. Kya sharply inhaled as she saw a shadow drift across the kitchen to the table. She turned to see her mother casually stacking the silverware on a plate. Turning back toward the sink, Kya glanced at the window and saw Billy standing behind her mother’s reflection in the glare. She screamed and turned around. Shaking she noticed only her mother standing there. Kya shook her head and apologized, “I’m sorry. I thought I saw him again. I think I’m losing it.” Kya’s mother carried the plate of silverware over to the sink. She stumbled and dropped the plate. Kya looked down and saw it shatter. Looking back to see if her mother was okay, she noticed a sinister grin on her face and a single steak knife in her hand. With a low menacing tone, she taunted, “You haven’t lost it yet doll, but you’re about to.” Kya’s mother plunged a blade into her abdomen, “Thanks for the ride kid. I can’t wait to paint the town red.”