When Mae Bishop finally did in her abusive husband and dumped his body in the river, she thought her troubles were behind her. When his ghost shows up and leads her away from the police and straight into the lair of a serial killer, she realizes trouble never left. And when a mysterious angelic being recruits her for purposes yet unknown, Mae knows she and trouble are in it for the long haul.
You're reading Flesh and Blood. This is Episode Six.
Need to catch up? Visit the navigation page.
May reached the lot and ducked behind the nearest car. Crouching, she worked her way toward the back of the lot, pausing along the way to raise up and peek through the car windows. Al appeared around the corner and stood along the side of the house, apparently trying to decide which way she was likely to have gone.
“Psst! Over here, darlin’!” Wade called to her from the back of the lot, next to an old Cadillac. Mae crab walked over to him. “Under here. Quick!” He pointed under the car. With no hesitation, Mae dropped to the ground and scooted under it. The leash still dangled from her neck. She grabbed it and pulled it in after her just as Al’s feet came into view at the front of the row.
“You’re not gonna get away!” his voice boomed. “You got nowhere to go! No help around for miles!”
Next to her, Wade spoke in her ear. “There’s an open door around the side of the garage. It’ll be on your right. When I tell you, run for it.”
Al stalked down the aisle. At the third car, he crouched down and started to get on his hands and knees. For a big guy like him, that wasn’t such an easy proposition. Mae backed up, her elbows and knees sinking into ice-cold mud and oil and who knew what else. Even so, she moved faster than Al, and by the time he managed to get low enough to see under the cars, she’d backed all the way out and squeezed her frame into a ball behind the Caddy’s tire.
“Now!” said Wade. “Go!”
Mae sprang up and ran toward the garage. She heard Al swearing and struggling to get up, but she didn’t look back. Just as Wade had said, a side door stood ajar. She rabbited through it and then slammed it shut behind her, leaving herself in darkness. She felt the knob and the door for a lock. Finding a deadbolt, she turned it. Then she fumbled along the wall for a light switch.
A bang on the door caused an involuntary scream to erupt from Mae’s throat. It was only a quick yelp, but she swore at herself for it just the same. The banging continued while she found a light switch and flipped it on. Overhead, fluorescent lights flickered to life, revealing the contents of the garage. It looked like any old mechanic’s garage, nothing sinister about it—unless you counted Mae’s truck sitting up on blocks with the tires already removed. A workbench stretched along the opposite wall, with an array of hand tools and power tools hanging above it. At the back of the garage a large hook hung from a thick chain attached to a pulley system, which Mae guessed was for lifting engines out of cars.
As she stood there taking it all in, it didn’t occur to her that the banging had stopped until she heard the hum and grind of a garage door opener. The big bay door at the front rumbled its way up the track, letting in the daylight. And Al.
Mae lunged for the front of the truck and crouched down.
“Ain’t too many places to hide in here,” he called as he stepped inside. “Might as well come on out. I’ll go easier on you if you do.” He moved to Mae’s right, so she went left, keeping the truck between them and staying out of sight. If they kept moving this way, she’d be able to break for it once she reached the front of the garage. Maybe she could make it to the road. At this point, that seemed like her best chance.
But no sooner was Al’s big body all the way over the threshold than he raised the remote in his hand and clicked it, causing the door to rumble in the opposite direction. It was now or never. Gathering herself up, she was about to bolt when Wade suddenly appeared in front of her.
“No.”
She was startled into hesitation more than anything else. By the time she regained her wits it was too late. She gave Wade a look that she hoped conveyed the question, Are you trying to get me killed? Considering their history, it was a valid question.
“You have to stick this out, Mae. You’ve got to finish it.” There was no malice on his face. No trace of smirking vengeance, of “Serves you right.” If anything, she could detect genuine sorrow, and that unnerved her more than anything.
“Let’s go,” he said, backing up and waving her forward as Al crept deeper into the garage. He gestured at his neck. “You might want to take that off.”
Mae felt the collar and worked at the buckle as she scooted along the side of the truck. It wasn’t easy. Her fingers felt frozen and slimy with mud, and she was still shivering. But she managed to get the hateful thing off. The chain it was attached to clinked as she removed it, making her flinch. On the other side of the truck, Al laughed.
“You want to hear what I’m gonna do to you if you don’t come out right now?” He moved toward the front of the truck. Mae dropped to the cold concrete floor and rolled underneath it, hoping and praying that those blocks holding it up were sturdy. She rolled out the other side just as Al reached the front of the truck and headed around to where she’d been.
“First I’m gonna cut your titties off.” He went on from there, and she heard something fairly inventive involving other parts of her anatomy and a blowtorch before she managed to tune him out, focused on re-buckling the collar as quietly as she could. She hoped he kept talking. His voice helped to mask her movements.
“Then I’m gonna get out my knives and put as many new holes in you as I can without killing you. And then after I’ve had my way with every single one of ‘em, I’ll take you apart, piece by piece. Once I’m done I’ll throw you out in the woods and let the coyotes pick your bones clean.”
Slowly, Mae crept up behind him. He stood at the front of the truck, one hand on the hood, half bent over. Suddenly, he dropped to one knee to look under the truck, letting out a roar as he did like the monster that he was. “Shit,” he muttered when his prey was nowhere to be seen. He straightened up, and that’s when Mae threw the chain over his head and wrapped it around his neck.
He swore a blue streak, but it was quickly cut off as she pulled on both ends of the chain as hard as she could. She put a foot against his back to give herself leverage, and all he could do was claw at the chain. He tried to turn but she put her foot on the ground, braced herself, and yanked it with everything she had, knocking him off balance. As he fell over, she could see that he’d begun to turn purple.
Mae held on and dragged him along the floor. He was a heavy man, but the concrete was smooth, and she was hopped up on adrenaline and sheer determination. She managed to slide him over to the area beneath the big hook. She waited until he quit struggling and went limp, and then reached up to grab the hook. She gave it a pull and it came down low enough that she was able to hook the collar onto it. Studying the pulleys, she spotted a power cord that ran alongside the chains and ended at a little metal box with a big, black button. Mae ran to the button and pushed it. A motor hummed, and the hook lifted, taking Al with it.
Only when his feet dangled about a foot off the ground did she push the button again, and only then did she release the breath she’d been holding. She sucked in more air and blew it out, her body deflating along with her lungs. She leaned over and put her hands on her knees to hold herself up.
It was over.
Once she felt steady, Mae straightened up and regarded the piece of human feces dangling before her. Somewhere in the back of her mind it occurred to her that she had now killed two men—if you could call them men. A more immediate, top-of-mind thought was that she needed to get the hell out of there, fast.
But first she had to take care of the girls.
“I don’t suppose you’ve got the keys to those cages in your pocket,” she muttered. Reluctantly, she stepped up to the corpse and patted the pockets of his jeans. She felt a lump in one that might be a set of keys. Swallowing her revulsion, she stood up on her toes and slid her hand into the pocket.
That’s when he grabbed her by the hair.
Mae screamed. Al pulled hard, kicking and thrashing against his chain. She got herself twisted around and sunk her teeth into his hand to make him let go. As soon as she was free, she ran to the work bench and grabbed the first sharp thing she could find. Metal shears. She raised them over her head and charged at Al, screaming as she went, and plunged them into his gut. They slid in easily, spurting blood everywhere, but mostly on her. She pulled them out and plunged them back in, over and over again. Even after he’d quit moving, just hung there lifelessly, too dead to fight, she kept going at him with those shears.
“Shh, Mae.” Wade appeared beside her. “It’s done, darlin’. You can stop now. It’s finished.”
Mae stopped. She looked at him, and then at the shears, and then at Al, or what was left of him, and the mess she’d made. She dropped the shears and stepped back. Her feet stuck to the floor, and she looked down to see a pool of blood, more than she’d imagined one person held. She felt her nose running and wiped it with the back of her hand, then saw that it, too, was coated with blood.
She looked around for Wade, but he’d done his disappearing act.
She made her way back to the house in a daze and went straight to the bathroom. What she saw in the mirror almost made her scream. She was drenched in more blood than Carrie on prom night. She trudged over to the tub and turned on the shower with shaking hands. Without waiting for it to heat up, or bothering to remove her blood-soaked underthings, she climbed in and stood under the spray.
She didn’t know how long she stood there. She zoned out, her mind replaying everything she’d done to Al in vivid detail as blood and mud sluiced off of her to swirl down the drain. She couldn’t even tell for sure if the water had ever heated up. If it had, she’d stayed long enough for it to turn cold again. Her teeth began to chatter, and she turned off the water.
She found a towel in a linen closet across from the toilet. She peeled off her wet underwear and tank top before drying off and wrapping the towel around her. She left her clothes on the floor and trudged out of the bathroom, stopping for another inspection as she passed the mirror. She’d washed off most of the blood, but that was all the better to see her injuries.
A big, purple bruise had blossomed out from her temple across her cheek and forehead, and a raw patch of skin was visible on her head where a clump of hair had been yanked out. And her battered hand began to throb. She pulled on the mirror and found a medicine chest hidden behind it. It held the usual things—nothing that would give a curious visitor any hint of Al’s hobby—including a bottle of ibuprofen. She took it out and poured four pills into her palm, popped them into her mouth and put the bottle back. She bent at the sink and used her hand to cup sulfuric-tasting water into her mouth.
Finally, she left the bathroom and made her way to the basement. One of the girls—Wendy, most likely—screamed when she opened the door. She moved shakily down the steps, holding onto the rickety rail as she went. When she pulled the light string at the bottom, a gasp came from one of the cages. “You’re alive!” said Jana.
Mae didn’t say anything. She went over to the work bench and found a screwdriver. Both of the young women remained silent while she went to work removing the doors from the cages.
“What about Al?” Wendy asked once they were both free.
“He won’t be back.”
“Did you call the police?” asked Jana.
“No, but you can. Just do me a favor and give me a twenty-minute head start.”
“I don’t understand,” said Jana. “Why--”
“Just do it, okay? And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell them too much about me.”
“That should be easy,” said Wendy. “We don’t know much, do we?”
Mae actually managed a slight smile. “One more thing. Do yourselves a favor and don’t go in the garage.”
“Why? What’s in the garage?”
“Al.”
She turned and headed back up the steps. The girls followed. She waited while they made sure the phone worked before leaving through the back door.
She found the main garage door open, even though she had no memory of opening it. She kept her gaze averted from the carnage that was Al’s body as she lifted her suitcase out of the back of the truck. She set it on the ground and popped it open. Without caring whether anyone was around to see, she dropped the towel and pulled on some clean underwear and her only other pair of jeans. She rummaged until she found a sweater and pulled it on. Then she pulled out a jacket and shrugged into it. It was only a windbreaker, not very heavy, but it was better than nothing.
Finally, she found socks and a pair of tennis shoes and shoved her feet into them. She wished she knew what Al had done with her other clothes. She’d much prefer the boots she’d arrived in. But these would do.
Before closing the case, she removed a black wig and a pair of large sunglasses, and put them both in her pocket for later. Then she shut and latched the case and stood back to study the truck. There was no way she’d get the tires back on, not before the police showed up.
A sharp whistle behind her caused her to turn around. Wade waved at her from next to the big, blue Cadillac she’d hidden beneath earlier. Mae picked up her suitcase and went over to him.
“Here’s our ride,” he said.
She looked at the car, then at him. “This thing isn’t exactly inconspicuous.”
“Maybe not, but it’s got a full tank of gas and an older ignition system.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
Wade looked mock-wounded. “Have you forgotten our adventures in hot wiring?”
She had, actually. That was one of the good memories, back when they’d been high school sweethearts, when she’d been too young and naive to recognize the red flags. She’d banished the good memories and buried them deep. They hurt too much. It was the bad ones that gave her fuel.
“It’s not locked,” he said. “Better yet, it’s untraceable. Our good friend Al ran a chop shop, fixing up the cars of his victims and selling them.”
“So you’re saying this car belonged to the victim of a serial killer.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers. Hop in, darlin’, and let’s get this boat on the road.”
With a sigh, Mae opened the back door and deposited her suitcase in the back seat. He was right—she didn’t have much choice. She hoped the fact that she’d killed the son of a bitch would appease any spirits attached to the car and send them to their rest.
Not that she believed in that sort of thing, her current haunted situation notwithstanding.
She got into the driver’s seat and shut the door. Wade was already in the passenger seat, and he walked her through the steps of hot wiring the ignition. It took her a few tries, but finally, the engine rumbled to life. She pulled out of the lot and pointed the big boat of a car toward the road. Once there, she turned it back in the direction she’d come from and navigated back to the main highway, hoping it had been long enough that the road blocks had been taken down.
She reached the highway and headed toward town. She didn’t get far before she heard the sirens. She pulled over and watched as a line of police cars and ambulances sped in the opposite direction, slowing only to turn onto the road she’d just come from.
Keep Reading:
Thank you for reading! If you’re enjoying this serial, consider buying me a coffee.
If you're not subscribed already, sign up below to have subsequent chapters (along with related blog posts and other works of fiction) delivered straight to your inbox. And a like, share, restack, or maybe even a comment will help me gauge whether to continue this series beyond Flesh and Blood.
PS - If you enjoyed this, you’ll probably like my books. Check them out here.
Thanks for reading!