The Renfield Syndrome Ch. 03

The Renfield Syndrome (Non-erotic bisexual horror) - David is an ordinary man thrown into a nightmarish world of bloodlust and passion with his own humanity at stake. This is an ongoing work in progress of psychosexual horror. https://literotica.com/my/#/works/stories/published

CONTENT WARNING: Bloody horror violence and gore, strong sexual content, apparent character death

CHAPTER 3

A wave of gray panic surged over David, his fingers seemingly embedded into the steering wheel so deep he couldn't pry them loose. Thank God I'm not drunk, thank God I'm not drunk, oh thank fucking God I'm not drunk... It was a selfish thought to be having, but it pounded in his head as David grabbed his phone and prepared to jump out into the rain. But before he could even open his door, the man in the road clambered to his feet and stood facing him, brightly illuminated by the headlights with his face a crimson mask of blood. Then he limped heavily toward the passenger side of David's car.

David was paralyzed with shock as the guy tried to open the door and found it locked. "Open up!" the man howled, glaring wild eyed through the passenger window at him. "Open the fucking door!" All David could find the wherewithal to do was mutely shake his head, whereupon the bloodied man hauled off and punched his fist straight through the window like it was made of spun glass. Shards went all over the interior of the car as the guy reached inside and fumbled with lock. He got the door open and threw himself into the passenger seat, pulling the door shut behind him. "Drive!" was the barked order.

"Wait, what?" David sputtered. "Drive where, what do you...?"

"DRIVE OR WE'RE DEAD!" the bloody young man howled. His face contorted into an animal snarl and through some trick of the light his eyes flashed blood red in the dim interior. He raised his fist which was bleeding freely and peppered with shards of the glass window he'd just put it through. A flash of white bone showed through at his first and second knuckles.

David did his calculations in a nanosecond. This guy was a)crazy, and b)very very serious. His options were to fight this lunatic, try to abandon ship and dive out the driver's side door, or do as commanded. If the man had said, "drive or you're dead", David's choice might have been different. But the man said, "drive or we're dead." It wasn't a threat, it was a warning. A plea, even.

David threw the car back into gear and started driving. "Faster!" his passenger barked, and David laid on the gas. The guy was turned around in his seat watching out the rear window, and David could see that he looked like he'd gone five rounds with tractor trailer and come out on the losing end. Whatever happened to him tonight, it was a lot more than just bouncing off the hood of David's car. "Oh God..." he said in response to something David couldn't see in the darkness. "Go, go, go go GO!" The fear in his voice was entirely genuine, and his panic was more than a little contagious. David punched the gas all the way to the floor and squealed his tires on the wet pavement in an effort to get some distance between them and... whatever. Leaving this immediate locale just sounded like a real good idea about now.

"Look man, seriously, I don't want any trouble..." David ventured. He'd seen no sign of a weapon, but the hole in his passenger window was an indicator of what this guy could do with his bare hands.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," was the response, but it came out as a low growl and David was less than reassured.

"Who's after you? What in the hell's going on?" He maneuvered through a curve in the road and put on another burst of speed.

"Just drive! Just... drive." He ran a hand through his blood-caked blond hair making it stand up crazily and collapsed back into the seat in exhaustion. "Take me to the airport. I have to get to the airport."

"It's the other way, I'd have to turn around and go back."

"SHIT!" His eyes flashed in the darkness again and he pounded the dashboard with his wounded fist hard enough to make a crack appear in the heavy plastic. "Then just... Find a long way around, anything! Take the next right!"

"Okay, okay." David took the turn at a higher speed than he felt comfortable with, but his own adrenaline needle was edging up and some small interior voice said it might be good to put some distance behind them, in case this guy wasn't just on drugs. But he had to be on drugs to do that kind of damage to his own hand. David looked at the gruesome mess and shuddered, remembering old stories about people on PCP essentially turning into the Incredible Hulk and swallowed. Finally he said, "I think I know another way. If you tell me what's going on, I'll take you to the airport."

"Be grateful I'm not going to tell you." The guy suddenly seemed to notice his deeply lacerated hand and inhaled sharply in pain. "Look, I'm sorry about this, I really am. If I had a choice, I would have left you out of this. Just get me to the airport and that's it, I swear. I'll disappear and you'll never see me again, I mean it. I'll even pay you, okay?" He shoved his good hand into his pocket, extracted a small wad of bills, and slapped them on the dashboard. "That's all you got to do. Take me to the airport and let me out, that's it."

"All right I can do that." David said, trying to get his bearings in this bizarre situation. "Just relax, and I'll get you there. Are you running from the cops or something? Can you tell me your name?"

"No... yes... I'm Aaron, and no we're not running from the cops, we... look seriously, no questions, okay? All I need is the ride and I'm eternally grateful. If anyone ever asks you about me, you can tell them I took you hostage or something, anything you want, it doesn't matter." He turned in his seat and stared out the back window again, and finding no pursuers he settled back and began to wincingly pull pieces of the car window out of his hand.

"Okay, no questions. I'm David. We've just got to get to the next freeway entrance, and we can double back." He felt an urge to keep an eye on the rearview mirrors himself, even though he could see nothing but blackness and rain.

"Thanks David. I'm very sorry to meet under these circumstances. And sorry about your window too." He actually looked a bit sheepish as he plucked a large shard of glass from between his knuckles.

"I guess they don't make 'em like they used to, Jesus Christ." David winced in empathy. "I think there's a towel in the glove box if you need it."

"Thanks," was the short reply. David tried to focus on the road ahead as Aaron retrieved the towel and mopped some of the blood off his face. Now that he wasn't so agitated, Aaron looked like a normal, tired, terrified young man, though David couldn't quite bring himself to feel sympathetic yet. Maybe the guy wasn't holding a gun on him, but who knew what he'd done to get his unknown enemies on his tail?

David noticed his own hands shaking on the steering wheel and cursed his damnable fragile nerves. It was a completely involuntary response to any kind of anxiety, and it always made him feel like a ridiculous coward. He thought briefly about digging another Xanax out of his pocket and decided against it. Apparently, he'd agreed to an adventure of sorts tonight, so he might as well try to face it like a man. "We can get onto the 518 just few blocks up here, and I'll get you to the airport as fast as I can. Should I be watching for cars following us?"

"No. Well, maybe. None of this is supposed to be happening in the first place. Everything's all fucked up, I don't know." He sounded helpless, like a man at the very end of his rope and barely hanging on. And on that David could sympathize having been there recently and repeatedly himself.

"We'll get there," David repeated, trying to sound confident. They had emerged onto a more populated throughway and the light of the city was a welcome sight. At least he could see if anyone was following them now. He passed a row of late-night gas stations and followed the street signs pointing them toward the freeway. Aaron put his hands over his eyes as if trying to massage away a headache, and David could see that at some point his throat had been raggedly cut. But it looked to be an older wound, several days at least. Whatever this guy had been through, it hadn't been kind to him at any step of the process. Feeling an odd sense of kinship with this blood-encrusted stranger, he pulled up to a traffic light and was waiting for it to click over to green when a police car turned onto their street and pulled up directly behind them.

Instantly David's nerves redlined again. The cops were just idling behind them at the traffic light, and David was sure he hadn't been breaking any road rules. He supposed that he should be glad to see the police, all things considered, but he very much was not. Unconsciously holding his breath, David kept his eyes locked on the rearview mirror, praying they would simply be ignored. There was an interminable moment that seemed to drag on forever, and then finally the traffic light turned green. He let his breath out with a whoop and carefully began to pull away.

The cops' lights came on, flashing red and blue, red and blue across the interior of the Toyota. David and Aaron voiced a mutual, "Shit!" and David froze. "Go, punch it! Run!" Aaron urged him looking over his shoulder.

"You want me to run from the cops? In this car? We'll never make it!"

"God damn it!" The young man swore. "Uh, shit. Okay, pull over I guess. Fuck! Act natural, we're just a couple guys on the way to the..."

"Hospital," David finished for him. "Have you seen yourself, you look like you've been through a hay bailer. My buddy had an accident and I'm driving him to the hospital, that's all. Let me do the talking and follow my lead."

"Thanks David," Aaron said with his voice full of genuine gratitude. David pulled smoothly over to the side of the road but didn't kill the engine. The two men sat without moving, David drumming his fingers on the steering wheel until he noticed and forced himself to stop. The police car pulled in behind them and not one, but two cops got out. They approached the car on either side and one of them, a tall man with a moustache, rapped hard on the window with his flashlight and made a throat-cutting gesture. David swallowed hard and shut the engine off, then rolled the window down as the officer blinded him with the light.

"What's up tonight, guys?" the cop demanded while his somewhat skinnier and darker haired partner took up a guard position on the passenger side of the car. "Do you, uh, know how fast you were going?" He looked to be trying not to smile.

"No officer, was I speeding?" David asked, keeping his voice as level as he could manage.

"You hear that, Dickie?" he called across to his partner who was openly grinning. "He doesn't even know how fast he was going. License and registration, please."

"Sure, what's the problem offi..."

"NOW, punk!" The big cop snapped his fingers impatiently and not knowing what else to do, David obliged. But when he handed his license over, it was barely glanced at and then tossed to the ground. "Tell you what, Dickie, we just caught this creep driving without a license. Can't let you go anywhere without a license, boys, so why don't you just get out of that car right now and we can do this the easy way."

David shot a glance at Aaron who was giving him a wide eyed and silent "no", as surreptitiously as he could. David swallowed, looked back up at the cop, and tried again. "Officer, I'm sure if you tell us what the problem is, we can..."

"The problem? The problem you little fuck? The problem is you're on my turf and pissing me off. And those are two crimes that carry a stiff fucking sentence around here. Now get out of the car, it's your last warning before I put this upside your skull." David looked back at Aaron, calculated his chances of getting the car started and moving before the police could react, and found them severely lacking. So instead, he showed his hands and slowly unlatched the door.

"Okay, okay, I'm getting out." The cop immediately pulled a clunky looking taser pistol from his belt and David froze again. "You don't need that," he emphasized, his voice miraculously coming out steady. He was being perfectly reasonable, non-confrontational, he wasn't resisting, just like he was always told he was supposed to do. David pushed the door open and put one foot out, and that's when the cop grabbed him and muscled him bodily out of the car, slamming him back against it. "Turn around and put your hands on the hood! You got anything on you that's gonna piss me off, knives or anything sharp?" This was followed by an extremely rough pat down.

"No, c'mon man, I'm cooperat..." And that's when Aaron threw open the passenger door with enough force to knock the smaller cop called Dickie off balance. He didn't pause an instant but leapt out and started to run, his feet pounding on the pavement. But he wasn't fast enough, and Dickie brought up his taser and fired. There was a loud crackling sound and Aaron dropped to one knee, and then started to get back up. David had seen videos of bodybuilders go down like a ton of bricks when tasered, but Aaron was struggling to rise when Dickie fired a second, and then a third time, and he finally collapsed in a nerveless heap.

The next thing David knew, his wrists were jerked behind him and there was a sudden burst of pain as a pair of handcuffs were clamped brutally tight. Then the big, as yet unnamed cop kicked David hard in the back of the knees causing him to collapse to a kneeling position. He grunted and managed not to go sprawling, but it was difficult while shackled. He had a second to morosely note that so far he'd gone his entire life without being handcuffed or arrested, but there was a first time for everything. Then the big cop pulled a walkie talkie style radio and fingered the button.

"Listen up everybody, this is Doyle. We got him and a spare too. We're just off the freeway on 131^st avenue, come and get him Belial, before we get interrupted."

"On our way," came a woman's voice. "We're right near there."

"Hurry the fuck up." Doyle slung his radio and circled around David still brandishing his heavy taser gun. "Sucks to be you, guy. You picked up the wrong fucking hitchhiker tonight. You should have just kept on driving."

"Please, officer, listen to me, I..." and then there was a deafening crackling sound and every nerve in David's body was suddenly on fire. There was a sense of tremendous impact like he had been hit by a train and his muscles went rigid from his jaw to his toes as he collapsed to the unforgiving pavement. It only took a single shot from the taser to incapacitate, and he lay on the ground with no feeling in his limbs except a pain so great that it grayed out his vision. Then his nerves exploded as Doyle zapped him a second time, perhaps merely for the fun of it, and the gray turned black as a thunderhead and he felt nothing more at all.

The first thing David became aware of was feeling like his head had been laid open with an axe. The headache was blinding in its intensity and seemed to encompass everything from his eyeballs up. He released a sound of complaint, more out of surprise at the enormity of the pain than the pain itself, and found himself on the receiving end of a thunderous blow to the gut that knocked what little wind he had out of him and doubled him over to the hard surface beneath him. He could identify neither where he was nor who had just kicked him in the stomach as he tried to open his eyes and found them stuck shut as if they had been taped over. His hands were still bound behind his back, the handcuffs that restrained him closed agonizingly tight on his wrists until he could no longer feel his fingers at all. His legs were unbound, and David struggled to get them beneath him and rise from the floor, but he was rocked off balance and suddenly realized he was in a moving vehicle. A truck or van.

Once again, an enormous, booted foot buried itself in his gut. He crashed back down gasping desperately to draw air into his battered body, the panic rising with every shallow and anguished breath. "Try it again and I'll fucking kill you," growled a rough, baritone voice somewhere above him, and then as if to emphasize the point its owner stepped hard in the middle of David's back, crushing him to the floor and making his ribs creak beneath his assailant's weight. For the third time in as many seconds, David found himself unable to breathe and the drowning panic jacked itself even higher. Struggling only made his attacker bear down with more weight, so David suppressed his instincts and forced himself to go limp and lie as still as he could. There was an agonizing moment where he thought he was simply going asphyxiate, but finally the man removed his foot and allowed David to draw breath. "Good boy," the unknown voice grunted as if satisfied that his captive was properly subdued again. "Chill the fuck out and enjoy the ride, asshole, trust me you want it to last as long as possible."

David didn't move, but tried to dig through his own pain and fear-clogged brain for an idea as to where he could be. He concentrated on holding as still as possible so as not to invite further attack, his battered body protesting at every sharp turn the unseen driver made. Finally, he did the only thing he could think of, which was to croak out a feeble, "What do you want?"

"You don't want to ask me what I want, cuck." The rough voice gave a bark of brutish laughter. "'Cause I just might want to peel the fucking skin off your fucking skull and wear it. I might want to tear your fucking heart out with my hands. I might even want to cut you up into little pieces and eat you. None of these things are off the table, you want to hear more of what I want?"

David most certainly did not, and he swallowed hard, tasting blood in his throat. "Please, I have no idea who you are. You don't have to do this, whatever you're doing."

"But it's so much fucking fun," came the response, and suddenly the boot was back crushing David's head to the floorboard with gradually increasing pressure. The pain was a monstrous thing as explosions went off behind his closed eyelids. A sense of vertigo came over him as the world seemed to swim around him, his ears pounded, and his vision was framed with blood. David was certain he was going to pass out or his head was simply going to pop like a grape, and then suddenly the pressure was lifted although the pain remained like a hunk of iron wedged in his gray matter.

"Playing with our food again, Belial?" came a higher pitched feminine voice followed by shrill laughter that pierced David's ears.

"Just tenderizing it, shut the fuck up and drive. We've got a long goddamn night ahead of us and she's waiting for these two cucks."

Two. It took David a second to remember Aaron. His blood froze and he considered speaking again, the civilized part of his mind insisting that there be some way to reason his way out of this. But the threat of further attack dissuaded him for the moment.

"Yessiree Bob," the heavy voice said tauntingly. "One hell of a long night. And when it's done we ain't lettin' ya go because you'll be one dead little bitch. But hey, look at it this way," he toed David roughly in the stomach but didn't kick with full force this time. "You should be grateful someone's about to give your worthless little life meaning."

"Please, I..."

"I'm fucking talking," the brute snarled and this time the impact was to David's jaw, a huge meaty fist instead of a boot. "I've seen a million little beta bitches just like you. Fuckin' faggots all runnin' around trying to pretend they're worth horse piss and not one fuckin' real man in the bunch. Your life was fucking nothing, beta cucks don't deserve the fuckin' air they breathe. You're all just picking at the scraps left behind by the fucking predators of this world. Well, you're talking to a fuckin' predator now, and today you're our prey. There ain't no good begging, you're going to find we're some cold sons of bitches, and ain't nobody gonna hear you scream 'cept us."