George dropped his briefcase by the front door and was both moving and digging his keys out of his pocket before the expensive leather case flopped over on its side. He was in such a hurry that he had to stop and turn around to shut the front door to his house.
Today had been just hell at work. Mrs. Jameson was on him from the start, that skinny, shrieking bitch. All day long she’d been peering over his shoulder and pestering him. She had asked for the Layton file no less than five times today, as if pestering him would get it done any faster.
Then there was Katie, his secretary, who had not only did not bring him his morning coffee promptly at nine-thirty, as was his custom, but also claimed she had told him of the eleven-o’clock Schlossberg meeting today when George knew perfectly well she hadn’t, the lying bitch.
“Bitches, all of ‘em,” George muttered to himself as he unlocked the basement door and threw it open to bang loudly off of the hallway wall. Taking the stairs down two at a time, he loosened his tie and ran a shaking hand through his thinning hair.
He desperately needed some air.
Crossing the basement to the old standup cupboard with the padlock on it, George used another key and unlocked it. His trembling hands made the simple task needlessly difficult and caused him to mutter a series of curses before he was able to open it up. The cupboard was empty and at its back was a hacked a large hole through both the wood and the cinderblock wall behind it. Through the hole a bright room of gleaming white and sparkling stainless steel could be seen.
George entered the room, walked past a table to a refrigerator at its back wall and flung it open. Inside were dozens of Tupperware containers, each the same size and color, only the names written on masking tape attached to their lids were different.
After a moment of indecision, George picked up a container marked ‘Mary’. He held it up to his face, opened the lid just enough for him to stick his nose into it, and inhaled deeply. The air inside was stale but there was still the scent of garlic, a hint of A1 steak sauce, and a trace of red wine.
George breathed in the faint odors until nothing was left, then closed his eyes and smiled. He could remember the last meal he had cooked for Mary, and in turn the three wonderful weeks he had kept her all to himself. All those memories were captured in the woman’s last breath and breathing it in had calmed his nerves, ceased his trembling, and drowned his rage in warmth.
Just like it always did.
When he was done, he closed the refrigerator and turned to the stainless steel table to his left. On it laid Pamela: blond, naked, terrified and tied. Her nose was clipped shut with a close pin and her mouth sealed with duct tape out of which ran a short rubber tube. The tube allowed the woman to breath and it had a homemade attachment on its end that let George connect Tupperware containers to it when the time came.
Around Pamela’s neck the rope was already looped. It was currently slack but patiently waiting.
“Hello, Pamela, how are you today?” George asked, smiling. He ran a calm hand through her dirty blond curls.
“You know, I think tonight I’ll make you an extra special dinner. No more dog food, but something nice. I’m thinking something with garlic. I just love the smell of garlic, don’t you?”
© Brian M. Sammons
Brian M. Sammons has penned a few dark tales over the years. They have appeared in the magazines Bare Bone, Cthulhu Sex, Dark Animus, and Horror Carousel and in the anthologies Arkham Tales, Cthulhu Unbound Vol. 2, Horrors Beyond, and Twisted Legends, among others. Later this year his first novella, The R’lyeh Singularity, written with David Conyers, will be published in Cthulhu Unbound 3 which he also co-edited. Despite all this, Brian is often described by his neighbors as “such a nice, quiet young man” and he loves animals. You can find out more about Brian at his very infrequently updated website: http://www.freewebs.com/brian_sammons