The Collected Horrors of Tim Wellman Read online

  "She will suit my purposes."

  "You're an adventurer at heart, eh?" Jonathan said.

  "Let's cut to the chase, Mister Smithers," he said and helped himself to a seat in one of the big green leather library chairs. "I have enough information to send everyone in this house to prison for the rest of your lives. But, you have something I want."

  "And that is?"

  "Your sister," the old man said calmly. "Even trade, my silence, I get the monster."

  "Now, I won't have you calling my dear young sister a monster," Jonathan said and smiled. "But, let's just say, for the sake of civilized conversation, we could agree. What on earth do you want with her? I'm sure there's a whole middle school full of little girls more suited to your tastes." He stood up and motioned the teacher over to the bar. "Sylvia is nearly twenty years old, much too old for you, or so I'm led to believe."

  The old man swallowed hard, and then tapped the glass down on the bar. Jonathan refilled it and poured a gin and tonic for himself.

  "I see you've done your research, too," Ashberry said.

  "Not really," Jonathan said. "The whole town knows you're a wretched pedophile." He held out his glass. "Cheers."

  "My interest in your sister is purely professional," the old man said, his face showing no emotion. "I can control her."

  "I couldn't care less what your intentions are," Jonathan said.

  "You still misunderstand me, but we'll let it go for now," he said. "Can I see her?"

  "You read my mind," Jonathan said. "Follow me." He guided the teacher through the library door where Steven was waiting. "I'm sure she will be happy to see you."

  Steven nodded. "Maybe you can control her," he said. "Can't hurt to give it a shot, right?" He got to the basement door at the end of the hall, opened it, and then waved the teacher through. "Careful of the stairs, a few are wobbly."

  "I think we understand each other," Ashberry said. "I'm a reasonable man."

  "Well, we'll see," Jonathan said. "She's in here." He pointed to the cell door. "Better prepare yourself; she's had most of the day to chew on herself. It's not going to be pretty. Last time, she had eaten all the flesh from her forearms by this time." He put the key in the lock and turned it and pulled the big lock off the latch as Steven pretended to be distracted by something on the wall behind them.

  "Sylvia, dear, step back from the door or we will throw boiling hot oil all over you!" he yelled. "Torturous threats seem to work best on sis." He then quickly pulled the door open wide as Steven shoved the old man into the cell. The door was quickly locked again. "Deed done," he said as he slipped the key back into his pocket. "Let's have Mildred whip us up a snack."

  Steven put his ear to the door. "Did he die of fright?" he whispered. "I don't hear any screaming. She should have ripped his throat out by now."

  "Hmm, odd," Jonathan said. He pounded on the door. "Sylvia?"

  "I'm all right now, Jonathan," a soft, feminine voice said through the door. Mister Ashberry has stopped my... symptoms."

  He looked at Steven and cocked his head. "She's fine, now," he said. "The old bastard really does know the formula."

  "Mother gave it to him," Steven said. "There's no other conclusion. That stupid old bitch had father's formula and gave it to him instead of us."

  "Dear old mom," Jonathan said. "I must remember to visit her grave some day... so I can piss on it." He shrugged. "Sylvia? Are you sure? Mister Ashberry, say something."

  "I'm fine," he said. "So is Sylvia. Let us out."

  Jonathan undid the locks and pulled the door open slightly. Sylvia was fine, apart from wearing only the filthy, blood-soaked white shift, her soft, young features were normal again. She was a beautiful woman again with her bright blue eyes and long blonde hair. She stepped out into the basement and kissed Jonathan on the cheek, then Steven. "I'm sorry. I've imposed on you again."

  Ashberry was brushing dirt off his jacket as he walked out. "Tried to kill me, didn't you?"

  "I thought it was worth a shot."

  "Regardless, I'll be taking Sylvia with me," he said. "I have plans for her. She will be my personal killing machine!"

  "And why does an old, fat, disgraced schoolteacher need a killing machine?" Jonathan thought for a moment. "I guess I answered my own question." He waved his hands toward the stairs. "You're more than welcome to leave," he said. "But, a cultured man would at least tell us the secret to controlling our sister."

  "I don't think that would be prudent on my part, do you?" he said. "If you knew, I would be dead." He smiled. "And just remember, boys, the little monster works for me, now. Who knows, I might not even go to the police with what I know about you and this house. But don't count on it."

  Steven started to take a swing at the old man, but Jonathan caught his arm and stopped him. "Steven, violence is never the answer," he said with a smile. He turned and looked at Sylvia. "Sister, dear, what did the evil man do to turn you back to human?"

  "Wait!" Ashberry yelled.

  "He read the words on the piece of paper in his pocket," she said calmly. "Father's words."

  The old man grabbed her arm and yanked her up the stairs. "Get the hell up there!" He looked down at the brothers and waved. "Enjoy prison! Grow some balls before you try to kill me again. Once I get your sister programmed properly, the world will need an army to stop me!" He nudged the basement door open with his knee and pushed Sylvia through, then stepped through the door himself.

  There was a swishing sound, only one, but it was all that was needed. The large machete Mildred was holding had done its job, slicing cleanly through the old man's neck. The loud thump of his head hitting the floor caused the brothers to run up the stairs faster, just in time to get out of the way of the decapitated body falling backwards and rolling back into the basement.

  "Well shit, now I have to walk all the way back down there to get the formula out of his pocket," Jonathan said. "Nice job, Mildred. I often wonder where this family would be without you."

  "In shallow graves, probably," she said with a smile. "I'll get some of the staff to get rid of the body. What's one more added to the pile?"

  Sylvia stood smiling, her eyes darting back and forth between the brothers and the dismembered head at her feet. Steven looked at Jonathan and they both nodded. "Go ahead."

  She dropped to her knees and began sucking the bloody stump of a neck, pulling veins out with her teeth. She was humming an old church hymn, the one her father used to sing.

  "I'll get the formula," Steven said, barely audible above the slurping sounds at his feet. "She's not normal... even when she's normal."

  "But at least she asks first," Jonathan said. "We can handle a well-behaved monster."

  The Legend Of Julie Black

  She had turned six years old the day before and after the usual party and shopping spree at Beechum's five-and-dime store, Sally Ann Moore was finally allowed to visit the Clatterbox Diner for the first time in her life. She had reached the age; six was determined many generations before in her family to be the age when a child could act mature enough to be among adults in an adult place. Her mother tugged the stainless steel bar across the door and with a good bit of effort against the hydraulic closer, pulled the door open as a blast of air-conditioned air hit them both.

  "Okay, now remember," her mother said. "You're a big girl, now. Act like it!"

  "There she is!" Minnie was behind the counter, wiping it down for probably the hundredth time that day. "Hey there birthday girl!"

  It was all the color that hit Sally first: bright red and white vinyl seats and booths, black and white checkered floor, chrome and polished metal everywhere, reflecting everything like funhouse mirrors. Even the cigarette machine was a marvel of modern design with blue and yellow enameled patterns over the shiniest metal she had ever seen, and red knobs and the colors of twenty different brands lined up through the large glass display. There was too much to take in and she realized as she looked over the people eating lunch that she had ent
ered a completely different world. If this was the adult world, she wanted it, and wanted it now.

  "Just slide over next to the window," her mother said as she pointed to an empty booth.

  "Don't we have to order first?" she said.

  "No, Minnie will come and take our order," her mother said. She pulled a laminated menu out of the napkin rack and ran her finger down the list.

  "Oh." It was nothing like a fast food restaurant; eating in a diner was serious business.

  "I'm going to have the roast beef with mashed potatoes and green beans."

  "No hamburgers?" Sally said.

  "You have hamburgers all the time, they have real food here," she said. "So, you want roast beef, Salisbury steak, or fried chicken?" She continued to read over the menu.

  "We got chicken and dumplings today, too," Minnie said as she walked toward their booth. "It's good, too, I been sampling it all morning! Aunt Bonnie came in early this mornin' and put it on for us."

  "Well, I've changed my mind, then," her mother said. "I'll have that with mashed potatoes and green beans. What about you, Sally?"

  There were too many choices and she was starting to panic. "Uh..." She looked at her mother. "Can I have chicken and dumplings, too?"

  "Of course," her mother said.

  "All righty, then," Minnie said. "What ya want to drink?" She smiled and looked at Sally. "I'm just talkin' to you because I know what your mom wants, black coffee, so strong ya have to eat it with a spoon."

  "Can I have pop?" She looked at her mother and she nodded. "Orange pop?"

  "You got it, sweetie. I'll bring out your drinks." Minnie walked away and Sally looked at her mother. She was seeking some affirmation that she had done well.

  "Stop being so nervous," she whispered. "You've seen all these people your entire life."

  "I know, but I have to act like an adult here," she said.

  "No you don't," her mother said. "Just act like well-behaved kid."

  "Hey Mary." A man's voice from across the diner broke the relative drone of clanging cutlery and small talk. "You tell her about the ghost of Julie Black, yet?"

  "No," her mother said. "And don't you go starting stuff about it again, either, Steve."

  "Oh, come on," he said. "She needs to know all the town secrets since she's a big girl, now. Besides, ya cain't come in here and leave without hearin' the story."

  "Ghost?" Sally said. She smiled. "Like a real ghost?"

  "Don't you start, either!" her mother said. "It's just some rumor that got started a long time ago to get more customers."

  "Except it backfired and chased most of the customers away," Minnie said as she sat their drinks on the table. "Charlie Rayburn owned the place back then and my aunt was doin' my job."

  "I seen it with my own eyes," Steve said as he walked toward them. "I was here when Charlie saw it, too."

  "Don't let him scare you, sweetie," Minnie said. "You know most of the men in this town are so full of hot air we don't need 'em to be minin' coal. Just use them ta heat our houses."

  "Oh, he's not scaring her," Mary said. "She eats this sorta thing up. Loves ghosts and scary movies and stuff. Has a stack of picture books tall as she is about all that stuff, stuff I can't even look at without feeling sick."

  "Oh, well," Minnie said. She slid into the booth next to Sally and nudged the child with her elbow. "Them stories is real. Julie Black was killed right over there by the old jukebox. There's a bullet hole from goin' straight through her heart and lodging right in the record spinner." She pointed toward the back wall of the diner. "You can go check. No one has dared to change the records since that night... they're all from the fifties."

  Sally turned quickly and looked at her mother with the biggest, saddest eyes she could muster. Her entire face was screaming 'please!'. Her mother nodded. "Go on, you can look," she said. "But make it quick, the food will be here soon."

  Minnie had barely stood up when Sally squeezed by her and literally ran to the old music box. By the time Minnie got there, the young girl was standing on he toes, her face and hands pressed against the glass, looking down into the mechanism.

  "See there?" she said. "A bunch a old rockabilly and whiny-assed country songs from twenty years ago. We still keep it plugged in now 'cause all the lights look so pretty, but it don't play at all."

  Sally nodded. She really couldn't read many of the words on the forty-five that was still on the platter, but it looked old enough. "The bullet is still in there?" she said, barely above a whisper.

  "Yep," Minnie said. "They say if you walk by here at the witchin' hour, 3:00am, some nights you can still hear that record playin', and then a gunshot and the music stops. And look here." She tapped Sally on the shoulder with the back of her hand and Sally looked around and followed the waitress's extended arm down to the floor. "That there spot on the floor is her blood."

  Everyone in the diner had gathered around, including Sally's mother who was casually holding her cup of coffee and trying not to be sucked into Minnie's story. It was difficult because with years of practice, she had learned to tell it so well. "Or paint," she said.

  "No matter how many times it gets cleaned up, the stain keeps comin' back."

  "Or someone keeps repainting it," her mother said.

  "You're taking the fun out of it, Mary," one of the men said. "That's why Barry left ya, ya's just a stick in the mud."

  "I thought it was because he wore himself out on your wife," Mary said.

  Sally was listening. People in diners had adult conversations, some apparently even got killed. "Who killed her? Who killed Julie Black?"

  "Well, all anybody really knows is it was a man in a black leather jacket and sunglasses," Minnie said. "Just came in, she jumped up and tried to run, and he nailed her right in the back with a single shot."

  "Yeah, yeah, Elvis did it," Mary said.

  "Hey Minnie, food's up!" Bonnie yelled from the kitchen.

  "Oh, y'all needs ta eat while it's hot," she said and slipped behind the counter and grabbed the plates through the kitchen window.

  Sally's mother put her hands on the girl's shoulders and pulled her away from the scene of the crime and back to their booth just as Minnie sat the tray on the table. "Now, if ya can't eat all of this, let me know and I'll put it in a Styrofoam tray for you to take home." She pointed to Sally's glass. "Drink that last bit and I'll get you a refill."

  She watched Minnie walk away and noticed her mother was rubbing her fork between her fingers. She decided to do the same, then plunged it into the stiff mashed potatoes and took a bite. It was good, better than her mom could make, better than she had ever tasted. A bite of dumplings brought the same judgment. Diner food was amazing!

  "Mom," she whispered. "Did that really happen? Julie Black getting killed?"

  Her mother nodded. "I know that part is real because I was a little girl back then and can remember it. We lived across the street, up there in the apartment over the Sew Right shop, though it was a movie theater back then. So, I could see it all from the window, the old police cars and ambulance." She pointed to Sally's plate to remind her to eat. "But that's just made up about the ghost."

  "Still, if she was killed here she might still be here," Sally said and dumped several more spoonfuls of food into her mouth. "You should ask for this recipe."

  "Very funny, funny girl," her mother said. She took another bite of chicken and nodded. "Bonnie really outdone herself on this, though."

  "Wonder why no one ever told me about Julie Black?" Sally said. "You'd think if our town had a ghost, I'd be the one people would tell about it. I mean, I'm the one doing research on ghosts." She finished off her glass of pop and burped.

  "I heard that!" Minnie said from the back of the diner. "On my way!" She appeared almost instantly with the half-empty pop bottle and refilled Sally's glass again. "Service with a smile!" she said and smiled a very unnatural, almost menacing smile.

  "I wonder what's under the jukebox?" Sally said abruptly. "An
d inside. Maybe it's full of Julie Black's dried blood and it just leaks out sometimes when it gets wet or something."

  Minnie turned and looked at the jukebox and so did everyone else in the diner. It was apparent that no one had ever thought of that before, an actual, plausible reason for the pooling blood.

  "I don't reckon no one ever wanted to look," Minnie said. Tim Smithers walked by her in a rush. "What's up, Tim?"

  "I'm gonna pull that damned thing out from the wall and take the back off," he said. "It's bugged the hell outa me for years."

  "You all are letting a little girl rile you up," Mary said.

  "We just needed a fresh mind ta come up with the truth!" Steve said. "And a child will lead 'em; that's bible!"

  "Fools proclaimeth foolishness. That's bible, too," Mary said.

  Sally jumped up and was halfway to the jukebox before her mother could tell her to sit down and finish eating.

  "Ya can't just be destroying the diner's stuff," Minnie said. Connie stepped through the swinging kitchen doors and out to the counter. "Here's a tool kit," she said. Minnie looked at her. "What? It's damned time we found out what's up with that piece a junk. Maybe he can get it working again."

  "You don't believe the ghost story, right Connie?" Mary said. She climbed up on one of the counter stools nearby and watched as a couple of the other men helped Tim pull the heavy machine away from the wall.

  "I ain't never seen a ghost," she said as she poured Mary's cup full of coffee again. "I seen the killin', though, but dead is dead far as I can witness to."

  "There, that will do," Tim said as he smacked his hands together. "That's far enough from the wall." He started to bend down, but then noticed the entire floor where the jukebox had sat for all those years was dark red. He touched it with the tip of his finger and it was wet and came off on his skin. "I'll be damned, but that there sure does look like blood ta me."

  Sally wormed her way through the men, dropped to her knees, and pulled her finger through the fluid.

  "Sally!" her mother yelled. "Jesus Christ, clean that off!"

  But instead, she touched it to the tip of her tongue. "It's salty," she said. Everyone backed away. She held up her finger, offering anyone a chance to take a lick. No one did. She marched around with her finger in the air, and as she passed by people, they backed away.