The Road to Hell Ch. 04

ALL CHARACTERS ARE ADULTS.


The next knife strike missed Hank. As the blade pierced the shower curtain he grabbed the assailant's wrist, forcing it back till he heard a pop and squeal, then forced the curtain and rod out of the shower, and himself fell upon the attacker in one jumbled pile. Beneath it all a familiar female voice screeched, cried, and cursed him. It was Margo trying to escape the entangled mess.

Free, she stabbed at his leg, aiming for his cock, but the blade sliced his thigh as he sat atop her legs and struggled to pin her arms to the floor. He took the knife away from her as she fought to keep it. She spit in his face.

Holding the knife with blood pooling around his knee, Hank stood and pulled her up," Get up!" He said, then let her loose. "Get out, go away!" He pushed her away toward the front door.

"Shoot me! You bastard!" She wailed. "You fucking murderer!"

Hank stared at her for a long moment, then checked his injuries.

"You murdered my son!" She screamed.

Hank looked at her, "Go." He pulled a sheet from the linen closet and ripped it into strips to wrap his wounds and dampen the bleeding.

Margo stood crying and blubbering. "I got no place to go," she said.

"Call a taxi," Hank said.

"I told you I got no place to go!" She yelled.

"Shut the fuck up and call the taxi, I want you out," he said as he limped to his cell phone, grabbed it, and handed it to her. "Call the goddamned taxi!" She looked at him and snuffled. A streetlight on the corner glowed to life as she made the call.

Margo looked flummoxed and dead in the water. Hank assessed her without comment, put on his robe, then limped to the door and opened it when the knock came. It was the cabbie. Hank handed her a wad of cash as she left.

=====

After several months the old hotel opened for business. Hank moved into the manager's suite. Word got out and local women flocked to the place for sexual liaisons they made online or from ads or with neighbors or bosses or girlfriends. There was money and good times galore for any gal with the right stuff, and the ground floor was larded with plenty of legit excuses to be there, plus convenient elevators and stairs to go where you really wanted to be.

Sylvia Smallwood stopped by to see Hank, sniffing out his lair with little trouble. She tapped on his door, Hank opened it, and moved out of the way so she could come in. "Long time," she chirped. "My old man's working. Got any gin and tonic?"

Sylvia, in her thirties, weighed around one-sixty and stood five-two. The pounds were mostly on her chest and bubble butt. Her shoulder length hair was black, and her eyes were black. Prolly South American from Peru. Prolly a little Indian in her. Mostly she liked seducing girls but was married and expressed some interest in Hank in the past. "I can't stay all night," she said when Hank handed her the drink. "And I can't get wasted, either."

Sylvia wore sandals, a short skirt, and a floral print blouse too tight for her tits. "If my old man finds out, your ass is grass," she studied Hank's reaction for fear. "I'm serious!" She gulped the drink down and handed the glass to Hank. "Fix me another one; fuel for the fire. Damn the torpedoes!"

Sylvia stripped out of her shoes and clothes but left her bra and panties on. "I don't let my husband fuck me bareback, so if you knock me up there's gonna be the devil to pay when Bruno finds out," she said matter of factly. Hank handed her the drink and took a sip from his Southern Comfort bottle. "What's in that shit? Is it whiskey?" She asked.

"Neutral spirits, spices, and fruit flavoring," He said.

"A sissy drink!" She sneered.

"The alcohol is 192 proof," Hank replied. "But they make it with bourbon that's 80 proof. For candy-asses."

"Lemme taste it," she asked, and took a sip from the bottle. "It's sweet!"

"Ready to go!" Ha added.

Sylvia put a hand on Hank's package and felt it. "I hope your sissy juice doesn't spoil the fun," she wondered.

"It's like Viagra on crack," he said.

"I bet you're all talk," she whispered. "I wanna see it walk."

"It doesn't walk, it slithers," Hank said.

Sylvia finished her drink. "Where's your bed?" She asked.

Sylvia followed Hank to the bedroom. "I gotta pee," she asked. Hank pointed to the bathroom.

Hank was in his boxers, lying on the bed when she finished. Sylvia hopped upon the bed and moved over to him, leaning in to pull his dick out the fly, then leaning further to put it in her mouth. She kneaded his balls with one hand, circled his cockhead with her mouth, and stoked the shaft with her other hand. Hank unfastened her bra and pulled it off her. Her dark nipples looked like fat erasers.

Towards dawn she looked like Survivor: Fuck Swamp, and she was drunk as a lord. He let her sleep till noon when she bathed and left. An hour later she phoned him. "It's your lucky day, he's not home yet, hadda a problem at work."

-----

The truck stopped, Nancy listened and heard the driver's door open and shut. She lay prone on the floor of the cargo bay. Her wrists and ankles were snuggly wrapped with duct tape, a cloth bag covered her head with tape wrapped around her neck to keep it on. She heard a key inserted in the side door lock, then heard the door slide open. The din of bullfrogs punctuated by the sound of splashing filled her ears but was all but mute compared to the panic blasting her mind like a klaxon horn with no OFF button.

Large hands grabbed her and pulled her body across the floor to the door, then lifted her up. "He has strong arms," she thought, then heard him splashing through shallow water. Light rain fell on her arms and legs. She felt cold though it was summer. He lowered her and suddenly she was wet below her waist and sitting on sand with water lapping over her legs. She waited. A loud pistol shot silenced the frogs for a few moments. The truck started up and left.

=====

Hank Johnson parked his old truck beside the curb in front of The Palafox House Building he owned. The entrance opened onto the corner of Main Street and Bayshore Boulevard, a blinker light hung over the intersection, flashing red and yellow. It was a few minutes past three according to the old clock mounted above the entrance. Hank went in the Duncan Donut Shoppe for a coffee and toasted coconut cake donut.

The girl behind the counter was plump with spider veins and dark roots and a fine black moustache, without makeup or a clear complexion. The teeth on one side of her mouth were missing when she smiled up at Hank. Hank smiled back and took his stuff to a table.

Two boys walked in, one hid in his hoodie, the other, wearing a small nappy head, turtled down in his trench coat. They made furtive glances at Hank, whispered, and left. "Two dirty birds looking for a nest to shit in," Hank imagined. Hank left when two cops came in for coffee, donuts, and a dry place to write their reports. They reminded Hank of Hitler Youth.

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Hank went inside his building to the lobby desk. The night clerk, Winkie Mootz, was watching the tv and laughing his ass off. Hank checked his mail.

"What's so funny," Hank asked, examining the envelopes.

"Our new President, what's his face, went over to Europe for some fucking funeral," Mootz started to say.

"The guy that looks like Al Capone, you talking about?" Hank interrupted.

"Yeah, that's the guy," Mootz continued. "Well he stops at the casket, whips out his pecker, and pissed on the guy!"

"There yuh go, if you can't say something nice, piss on em," Hank said. "I'm going to bed."

=====

At noon Hank awoke to the shouts of a woman ordering him to get up, and two gorillas pulling him from under the sheets. Hank was naked. When he was standing he looked at the woman and smiled. "Get him dressed and put him in the car!" She demanded, and walked out of the room.

The gorillas dressed Hank, cuffed him, and led him outside to their car. They sat him in the back, behind the cage, and drove off. "Wanna tell us where you were last night?" One of them asked.

"No," Hank replied.

"You don't wanna know why we picked you up?" The other detective asked.

"No," Hank replied.

"Hey, Wally, looks we got Mister Cool Breeze riding with us," the first detective said.

"Could be a long day, Al," Wally suggested.

"Mr. Johnson I sure hope you have no big plans for this afternoon," Al said.

"I'll manage," Hank replied.

=====

At the station they escorted Hank to an interrogation room, parked him at a table, and waited for Lieutenant Davis, the woman who woke Hank up. Phyllis Davis looked in the vicinity of fifty-five with short auburn hair, five-seven or so, glasses. "Ten pounds of shit in a ten pound bag." Hank concluded. She was average.

"Where were you last night?" She asked.

"I don't recall," Hank replied.

"You know Nancy Walsingham?" She asked.

"No," Hank replied. Davis tossed a photo at Hank. Hank looked at it.

"Remember her now?" Hank was fucking her in the photo.

"I didn't know her name," Hank replied.

"Weren't you supposed to see her last night?" Davis pushed him. Hank looked at her. "She told her sister."

"She didn't show, so I went fishing," Hank said.

"In the rain?" Davis asked.

"It wasn't raining that hard," Hank said.

"Got any witnesses?" Davis asked.

"She's married," Hank replied.

"I mean for the fishing," Davis added.

"No," Hank replied.

"So you want us to believe you had a date, and when Nancy didn't show, you went fishing?" Davis asked. "Care to explain how you were dressed?"

"Jeans, tee shirt, boots," Hank replied.

"Where were you planning to go dressed like that?" Davis wondered.

"We were gonna go someplace on the island and fuck in the van," Hank replied.

"And you didn't know her name? How long did you see her?" Davis asked.

"A month or so, she wanted a fuck buddy," he replied. "We never got around to swapping bios."

"But she knew your name?" Davis asked.

"She asked and I told her," Hank said.

"And you weren't curious about her name?" Davis asked.

"Nope," he replied.

"How did you and Nancy meet?" Davis asked.

"Craigs List," he replied. "She listed a photo converter for sale, and I went over to look at it."

"And you had sex?" She asked.

"Yeah," he replied.

"And you didn't find that odd?" She wondered.

"Not at all, I worked for the phone company years ago, and sex with housewives was common," he said. "If they like you they'll offer it. And insist."

"Well, she's vanished and you're IT," she said it plain. "Somebody read him his rights and book him."

=====

Wally and Al escorted Hank to a holding cell then sent him to the county jail. At the jail he was processed and housed with other prisoners awaiting arraignment for bond. The turnkey assigned Hank a bunk a large inmate was lying on. The man ignored Hank. "You're on my bed," Hank said.

The man looked at Hank. "Fuck you," he said. Two other men smirked. Hank pissed on the man in the bed, and when he rose up to kick Hank's ass, Hank head-butted the man's chin and knocked him out. The other men skeedaddled, and Hank pulled the large man off the bed.

"Where's he sleep?" Hank asked the 'uh oh squad,' standing back watching. He then pulled the mattress off his bed and replaced it and the rest with the mattress and covers from the other bed.

The turnkey appeared. "Let's go," he said, and Hank followed him to solitary. At supper he was served a turd on a paper plate plus a paper cup containing a strange colored liquid. He saved the turd. Later, after the eleven o'clock shift change and bed check, his cell door opened and someone slipped in. The light was OFF.

Hank slapped the man's face with two chunks of the turd, smearing it into the eyes, nostrils, and ears. Then kneed the man's balls. The man collapsed. Hank broke one of the guy's legs, jumping on it, and kicked the man's balls a few times. Hank got back in bed.

After a while the light came ON and turnkeys came inside the cell. The unconscious man was Hank's old nemesis from the cell block. A team of thug boys came in and beat Hank. So far as he was able Hank fell on Bruno's head when he could. Bruno was the other man's name, but he wasn't an inmate.

Hank awoke several hours later in the jail medical unit. The following day they released him from the clinic and from the jail. No arraignment, no charges, no ride home. The money in his wallet was gone. He was never there.

Outside a taxi stopped for Hank. "I got no money on me," Hank alerted the driver.

"Get in," the cabbie said, "it's covered." Outside the old hotel the cabbie turned around, leaned over the seat, and said, "mum is the word, my friend."

Hank went inside the building to the desk. "You look like shit," Mootz observed.

Hank looked at him for a long moment, "But I'll look fine again in a week, how about you, asshole? Why didn't you get me a lawyer, you sorry fuck?"

"The lady cop said you didn't need one," Mootz answered. "Can I help you, sir?" An old man wearing a Stetson had walked up the stairs to the desk. Hank looked at the man, and guessed he was seventy and 300 pounds, then recognized him as the sheriff, Big Jim Coleman. Coleman was six five if he was anything.

"What can I do for you, sheriff?" Hank asked.

"I'd like some poontang," he replied.

Hank looked at him then handed the man a digital photo frame to look through. "That thing holds 350 photos, you might wanna have a seat while you're looking."

"How much?" Coleman asked.

Hank smiled, "Nuthin, it's police appreciation say."

"Is any of these gals here this early in the day?" Coleman asked.

"A few; but we can call a lady in if she isn't here," Hank replied.

"That's okay, beggars can't be choosers," Coleman smiled. "Johnson I'm sorry for the reception you got at my place. I had no idea. Some of my crew was more interested in pleasing others, than me, and forgot who they work for. But I think their minds are right, now."

"Take care of the sheriff, I'm gonna take a shower and take a long nap," Hank said to Mootz. "Enjoy yourself, Sheriff."

Hank went to his apartment took a long shower and was dressing when he heard pounding on his door. It was one of his girls, frantic for him to come with her. "That old man with Jean died!" She said.

Coleman had a heart attack. "Call 911," Hank said, "and let's get him outta here, down to the donut shop." They dressed Coleman, and put his shoes on his feet.

In the donut shop Hank snatched a sales receipt from one of the customers. "It's on me today, pal," he said, and stuffed the receipt in Coleman's pocket. Then he poured a cup of coffee and grabbed two donuts. He could hear fire rescue coming. He put the coffee and donuts on a table, and crammed half a donut in his mouth, then put the other half and the whole on a napkin by the coffee. Then he poured the coffee out of the cup onto the table and floor.

Coleman struggled to lift himself up off the floor. "Stay put," Hank said. "You're in the donut shop," so relax.

"Thank you," Coleman whispered.

The whole thing was a cluster fuck on the evening news. The reporter interviewed Winkie Mootz: "The sheriff stopped for coffee, and went to the restroom when he started getting sick; someone found him on the floor, and we took him back in the donut shop. Check his receipt."

A few days later Lieutenant Davis stopped by to see Hank and deliver his appointment as a Special Deputy to the Sheriff. "The sheriff sent me to give you this," she said. "And he told me to take you out to eat or whatever." She said it with a stiff upper lip, like a loyal soldier ordered to assault Hell.

Hank opened the case and looked at the badge. "Do I wave this at you the next time you break down my door?"

"I was doing my job," she answered frostily.

"Thanks but I'm not interested," Hank replied.

After Phyllis left Sylvia Smallwood and a female friend showed up, Hank let them in. "Got a gin and tonic?" She asked, and followed Hank to the kitchen. "You need a bar. You want anything, hon?" The other woman shook her head.

"I got a bar downstairs," he replied. "And you'd still want me to be your booze gofer."

"You did a job on Bruno's balls," she said. "Watch your back, you might need to kill him."

"Maybe I need to cripple him," Hank thought out loud.

"Jesus Christ! Don't do that! You've done too much already. He'd be home all the time, and under foot, and in the way," she protested, then pressed her body against him. "Your girlfriend looks like she's gonna explode or have a watermelon any minute. What in hell did you mix with the baby juice? Can we use your bedroom?"

Hank looked at the young woman. "A speeder?"

"Shoplifter," Sylvia said. "You got community service, didn't yuh?"