Randy and Walter: Killers (2 page)

He saw his daughter’s face and she was smiling at him. Then she frowned and turned her back on him; and he knew why.

Then the gun exploded and everything went black.

R
andy Barcer was born March 17, 1979. His childhood was a she
l
tered one. His father had run out on his family years ago and his mother had become nearly insane. She was an alcoholic and a multiple drug user. Outside the home, however, she hid her pro
b
lems from everyone else. She posed as a devout Christian woman, always attending her
Baptist
Church
whose name was
New Hope
. It was, of course, all an act. When they got back home from church, her temper would flare. She called all her friends worthless; she called the preacher a fiend. In fact, he was a fiend. This, Randy found out the day he was invited to the preacher’s office, suppo
s
edly to talk about God. Nothing could have been further from the truth.

You could say they talked about God, that is if God allowed a man such as the preacher to exist. Which for some reason, He did. Randy always questioned that up until the day he decided God didn’t exist. The preacher had helped with that the night he came to his house. His mother had brought him, thinking it was just for worship, or maybe she knew and didn’t care.

That night the preacher had been really drunk, he talked Randy into drinking with him. At eight years old he was easily controlled. He didn’t know what the drink was, but it was strong. So strong it almost made him puke. But he didn’t puke. Before he knew what had happened, the preacher had grabbed him and demanded him to undress before him. Randy, drunk and scared, did as he was told. He would always remember that night, and he would always curse God for it.

If He existed, he hoped He heard it.

After that night, Randy couldn’t sit for close to a month, and his mother never asked him why. 

Then one day after coming home from school, his mother changed. When Randy walked into the door, she grabbed him and kissed him. She began to apologize and told him how he was the only man she needed. If only he knew exactly what that had meant, if only he knew that for the next six years, he would be his mother’s plaything.

Something to do so she wouldn’t be lonely.

That afternoon, Randy received his first blowjob. A violent one at that. His mother left bite marks on the sides of his penis. The pain was excrucia
t
ing, but at the same time, Randy began to like it. After several months of practices such as that one, the two became nearly inseparable. He was fifteen when he stopped going to school and she stopped leaving the house.

In fact, the pair never left the house. They usually just stayed inside watching movies and cuddling together on the couch. Afterwards they would retreat into the bedroom and make love, if you could call it that, for hours upon hours.

Then, one day, something changed. They were cuddling on the couch as they usually did when suddenly his mother yelled for him to get away from her. Confused and unsure as to what was wrong, he obediently did as he was told. She told him to leave, so he did.

Randy walked the cold streets alone for several hours before finally d
e
ciding to head back home. When he got there, he immediately knew som
e
thing was wrong. Someone was there, som
e
one’s car was in their driveway. His mother didn’t have a car, so who was here? Curious, Randy went in and almost fainted when he saw who it was and what he was doing. The preacher was in the living room, his mother bent over the coffee table, her legs spread apart and knees shaking, her moans impressively loud.

The preacher looked at Randy and winked, his smile showing his yellow-stained teeth. His naked body showed an amazing display of muscles working as he jabbed himself into his mother. Randy closed his eyes, wanting to hide from the sickening sight and walked towards his bedroom, tears close to pouring. He was able to hold them off until he was safely inside his bedroom.

Randy slid onto his bed, weeping, slamming his fists into the pillows. It wasn’t really because of his mother; it was because of the preacher. This man had once again raped him, stole from him the one thing he truly loved. That was truly unforgivable. He promised himself right there that he would have his revenge; the preacher was going to pay and so was his mother for betraying him.

Randy lifted his head from his soggy pillow and smiled to hi
m
self. He would have his revenge, tomorrow. For now he would sleep, but not before he had one more look. He crept out of his room and into the living room. His back was pressed tight against the wall as he slowly snuck closer to
the sound of
his mother’s moans. When the dark hallway ended, Randy peered around the corner and sneered.

His mother’s long, blonde beautiful hair was wrapped around her face and
was
stuck against her sweating breasts as she rode on top of the preacher, who was lying upon the wooden coffee table. His hands felt their way to her breasts and squeezed them and pulled. Their cries of passions entangled as each enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh. Randy turned around and went back to his room with tears in his eyes and a smile on his face.

R
andy awoke with the sun in his eyes and wind slapping him in the face thanks to an open window. He yawned and got to his feet; today his revenge would come. He walked out into the hallway and went into the kitchen. He poured himself some juice and drank it quickly. When he was done, he walked into the living room, but it was empty. There was no sign of anyone ever being in the room. Confused, he looked around quickly then ran into his mother’s room and gasped.

Nothing. Nothing and no one at all was in the room.

Except a single white piece of paper in the middle of the room where her bed should have been. On it was a note that simply said in large black letters,
I HAD TO LEAVE
.

Randy crumpled the paper in his hand and threw it out the window. A grim frown creased his lips as he realized right then that he hated everything and everyone.

He walked into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of liquor. He popped the cork and began to pour the contents over everything. He made sure to soak the entire house using every bottle of liquor in the kitchen cupboard.

When he was through, he went into his bedroom and opened the top drawer. His lighter was underneath his favorite black shirt and he grasped it firmly. He walked to the front door and opened it, turned around and lit the lighter.

He put the flame to the floor and the fire flared up. The heat covered his back as he walked down the front stairs and then stopped and turned around.

Randy started to laugh proudly as his house burned to the ground. The fire lit the sky red; smoke billowing around his ankles as the flames spread to the other houses.

Satisfied, Randy turned and ran.

157

RANDY AND WALTER
: KILLERS

Chapter 2

Y
ears before he killed his wife and daughter, Randy had killed another, although he’d forgotten about it; pushed it out of his head.

Also, it was an accident.

Seven years had passed since he burned down his home in
Birmington
,
North Carolina
and Randy was doing rather well for himself.

He moved to a small town named
Rapshure
in
South Carolina
, a close-nit little town where everyone knows everyone’s name but not their
interests
. Here, Randy found himself a good job as a trim-carpenter and a small trailer to live in at the middle of town. For a couple of years, life seemed to pass by him. Day after day it was always the same. Work then home, work then home. Always the same, always boring.

That was until one day when he was on his way home and he decided to stop by a local bar to have a beer. Over the past few years, he always passed by the same bar but had never stopped in.

Until now.

He didn’t know why he stopped and he couldn’t even say what he wanted to drink. He just knew he wanted to stop.

Randy walked into the bar with his head hung low, not kno
w
ing quite what to expect. He sat down at the bar and asked for a beer. The bartender looked at him for a minute and poured him a glass of something foamy. Randy sat there for a moment, slowly sipping on his beer until he noticed the girl staring at him from across the room. She had long brunette hair and a short, nearly perfect body. Her face was nearly angelic in its features and even from across the bar her pale blue eyes seemed to pierce into his very soul. Without thinking, Randy stood up and walked over to her. He wasn’t sure why, as he had never been so impulsive before. But this time, he was, and he knew he wanted this girl. He stood behind her and watched her for a moment, wondering what to say to her. Then she looked behind her and looked right into Randy’s eyes.

For just a moment, the two of them were all alone in the bar, everyone else seemed to fade away. After perhaps three minutes, she finally spoke. “What’s your name?”

This question woke something up inside of Randy he never knew was there. His brain fluttered to life and a sly smile creased his lips. No one had ever really paid him any attention before now. In fact, since his mother, Randy hadn’t been with another woman. Men were no different. Aside from the occasional joking at his expense, no man noticed him either.

This girl however did notice him. She even asked him his name.

“Randy,” he replied, feeling just a bit cocky and sure of hi
m
self. “My name’s Randy. What’s yours?”

She smiled at him, showing off two rows of perfect white teeth. “My name’s Amy.”

Amy
, he thought.

The name sung through his ears like a bell. She answered him, she’
d
s told him her name and she had even smiled afterward. Randy fell in love right there in the bar. The moment was beautiful and for a moment life was perfect. He saw his whole life with this woman. Their first date, their first love-making experience, their wedding, their kids all the way until they were old and wrinkled. He even saw their
tombstone;
their names were together one above the other.

Randy and Amy
.

It just seemed too unreal, unnatural. It began to scare him a li
t
tle. He started to back up but he didn’t notice the man standing behind him. His back slammed into the guy and a loud crash awoke his senses. The man behind him had dropped his glass. Randy shuddered, he knew what was coming. A large overgrown hand slammed down onto Randy’s shoulder, and before he was pulled away, he noticed Amy’s smile.

It was still there, and she may have been laughing, too. It was all just another joke. Then he was outside in the rain. The sun had long since gone away to make room for the moon. The street lights blinded him as his eyes tried to focus.

He felt a sharp jolt in his stomach. He was punched and his i
n
nards felt it. Perhaps they too were laughing. Everything was laughing, and everyone. He hunched over and almost fell to his knees, but the man caught him. He hadn’t even seen his face yet but he
did
see the fist that flew into his face.

Randy’s head jerked back and he felt something hot stream down his chin. He knew he was bleeding but didn’t care, he couldn’t care. Not right then. The man was yelling something, was cursing someone. It was all intelligible. All he heard was skin cracking against skin and bone against bone. The man was firmly holding him by the collar of his shirt with one hand and punching him in the face with the other.

Light surrounded him. Was he dying? What was happening? Who was doing this to him and why? At the moment, death seemed inevitable, in fact, Randy yearned for it. He wanted to die. He was begging God to let him die.

But God wasn’t listening, not that night. God no longer cared. Randy was a lost cause. Just a small little fish in a world full of sharks.

Then...darkness.

Nothing was felt, nothing was heard. Randy was in the dark, standing alone. All alone, standing by himself with no one else around. But then he heard the soft patter of footsteps slapping through water. Someone else was here standing close to him. Strange that he didn’t hear breathing. Stranger still that he could hear giggling. A voice called out to him, the voice of a child. The voice of a little girl. Randy looked towards the voice and saw the owner, a little red-haired girl with an angelic smile on her face. She was strangely beautiful, even stranger was the fact that she stood naked and glistening as if her skin was layered with water. Her eyes pierced him. Dark green eyes that shone throughout the darkness. Something was very wrong here, he could feel it.

She was still speaking although her mouth wasn’t moving. “No love for
M
ommy.” The words rang through Randy’s head over and over again. The voice got louder and louder. He covered his ears but it didn’t help. There was no escaping the words, no escaping the voice. The sweet voice of the girl was a travesty, and she was a monstrosity. Something was going through his head. Pictures of blood and bodies. A thousand females lying motionless in red-stained water. Their naked bodies split apart and mutilated. Som
e
one hated them. Someone who was currently lying face down in a mud puddle left alone weeping. The women had hurt someone and they would all have to pay. The children had ruined everything and so they, too, would have to pay.

Sooner or later everyone pays. Randy knew it, and so did the little red-haired girl. Then she was gone and so were the images and the thoughts of hatred.

Nothing else to bother him but darkness.

Water...rancid tasting water filled his mouth. Chunky, oily, muddy water filled his nose. He lifted his head out of the puddle and rolled over, gagging over the taste and catching his breath. His face felt broken as did the rest of his body. He gave himself a minute before he finally sat up, his eyes adjus
t
ing to the lights of the bar.

No one was around, nobody had stayed to help him. Nobody cared. He could have cried right there sitting in the rain in front of
the
little bar, but he didn’t. Randy instead promised himself to never cry again; to take any abuse given and smile at it. All b
e
cause of some weird dream he had while he was unconscious. The little girl had been right. No love for
M
ommy. No love for any woman no matter how kind they seem.

After what seemed like hours, Randy finally got to his feet and stumbled to his car. Before he opened the driver’s door, he paused to look at his reflection in the window.

His face was terrible, a muddled mess. His nose was broken and blee
d
ing, both eyes swollen and bruised. His jaw twisted a bit to the side. An assortment of welts and bulges protruded from beneath his skin. Blood still ran down his face and throat. For a second he pondered about going to a hospital but within a second he decided not to. Instead he climbed into his car and drove home.

R
andy arrived home a little after midnight. He went to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of bourbon he kept in his freezer. Opening the bottle, he began to drink furiously as he ripped his clothes off with his free hand. He stopped drinking just long enough to look down at his body.

Parts of his anatomy were blackened and more welts covered his torso and legs. Whoever the guy was had given him one hell of a beating. His insides felt as if they were on fire so Randy conti
n
ued to drink. After a few more gulps, he finished the bottle and before he went to take a shower he took long enough to find a
n
other bottle of liquor. The second bottle turned out to be a bottle of vodka. Smirnoff to be precise. Like the bourbon, he drank it straight, chugging it as he stumbled his way into the bathroom.

He took enough time to turn on the faucets in the tub and ran himself a hot bath. He lay down inside the steaming water and almost fainted from the pain but finally settled in comfortably. He finished his new bottle and dropped it on the floor next to the tub. Within mere minutes he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Randy awoke on his cheap, brown leather couch. Sometime in the night, in a drunken daze, he had stumbled his way into the living room and laid down. The sun was beating down on his body now; still nude and as bruised and beaten as it had been the night before.

The pain seemed to power through his body like several tho
u
sand volts of electricity shooting throughout his veins. He rubbed his eyes and imm
e
diately wished he hadn’t. The pains of both swollen eyes jolted him and forced him to vomit. He fell onto the floor heaving and retching, vomiting up a clear liquid mixed with blood. Something inside him was broken and he knew he no longer had a choice; he needed to go to a hospital. As much as he hated doctors, he had to go. But he couldn’t drive. In fact, he doubted he could even muster the strength to put on any clothes. He crawled to the end table where his phone lay and grabbed it up.

The woman on the other end didn’t sound helpful at all, she sounded like some bitch whose day was ruined by showing up for work. Probably some spoiled, rich fucker’s daughter. After the call was finished, Randy leaned against the end table and waited. His eyes barely open to the world, he felt as if he would pass out at any minute. His head teetered back and forth, threatening to fall over at any time. As sirens sounded outside and EMTs came through his front door, (thank God he’d forgotten to lock it) sleep and darkness finally took him.

Darkness once again clouded around him as he found himself standing there once again. In some dream world he couldn’t seem to escape.

He anxiously awaited the giggles of the red-haired girl. They never came and neither did the images and thoughts of hate that followed her. Instead, a light came. A pale blue light, the lights of a hospital room. But not his room, someone else’s. Somewhere a woman was screaming and howling. Doctors were urging the screaming lady to push and push and breathe and breathe. Randy turned to look upon the people who owned the voices.

Several doctors crowded around a single woman whose legs were in the air on metal spikes that stuck through her ankles. Her feet looked as if they had been gnawed to the bone by some predatory animal. Randy was wi
t
nessing a birth. But not the type of birth you hear about, this was different, evil somehow.

Something was very off here. The doctors surrounding the woman were wearing bloodstained hospital attire. Their faces, although covered by green masks, were skinless. Muscle and bone was all their bodies bore. It was the eyes that really frightened Randy. The doctor’s eyes had no pupils but were instead glimme
r
ing bright silver.

Silver beams of light that seemed to burn the woman’s skin as they looked upon her. Their voices were deep guttural growls that sounded like the sounds an angry wolf might make.

The walls surrounding them all were streaked with rust and leaked some sort of yellowish liquid that looked like pus, som
e
thing that may come out of a pimple. The floor beneath their feet was covered in the pussy liquid dripping from the mother.

Then, Randy’s eyes fell upon the man. He was standing next to the birth mother holding her hand, comforting her. He looked normal. In fact, the man looked like his father, the man he’d seen in all of his mother’s phot
o
graphs. Randy began to walk over to the couple, but abruptly stopped when gallons of blood exploded onto the floor. The blood was coming from between the woman’s legs. It ran out of her like a twisted fountain of some sort. The woman’s body began to shrivel up into nothing. The skin wrinkled and curled up into itself as the muscle beneath it pulled away from the bone and curled with the skin. The bones themselves fell to the floor around the bed.

No more noise. No screaming, no more blood flowing, no not
h
ing.
That is until the lead doctor held up the newborn and a
n
nounced, “It’s a boy!”