Which way would he go? She
trotted toward the lights of the nearest house. A chorus of barking
dogs filled the night. Her long strides covered the ground at a
frantic pace. Pain filled howls replaced the barking,
panic-stricken yapping filled her ears.
“
What in the hell’s wrong
with you mutts?” a gruff voice shouted. “That’s enough. I’m trying
to get some sleep.”
A dark silhouette emerged
from the shadows. The porch light above the robed man’s head hid
the shape’s approach.
“
Get back in the house, you
idiot.” Gladys shouted. She covered the ground quickly.
Slowly becoming aware of
the danger, the man’s mouth dropped open in surprise as an oddly
garbed creature stepped onto the wood framed porch. Eyes bulged in
horror, an unvoiced scream died in his throat. He backed to the
door, reaching behind him, fumbling for the knob.
“
Marcy, open the door.
Marcy, hurry, Open the door.” His panicked voice filled the
night.
Gladys tucked the pistol
under the belt around her waist. When her feet hit the bottom step,
she wrapped her forearms around her face and unleashed all the
strength in her tightly muscled legs in one titanic leap. Her
elbows struck the massive creature’s back. She felt the tightly
coiled muscles under his old fashioned clothes. The momentum of her
leap carried them to the hardwood surface in a heap. Although she
expected her opponent to stay down, she bounded quickly to her
feet.
To her surprise he rolled
upright and stood before her. Gladys took a step back as she saw
his face for the first time. Coal black hair topped a hard cruel
face. The scarred flesh along the forehead and cheeks stretched as
thin as parchment. Close-set red eyes, filled with loathing, sent
goose bumps crawling over her body.
“
Who are you to rob me of my
feast?” he demanded. Saliva dripped from sharp dagger like teeth.
“You can’t stop me. My power is too great.”
“
I’m The Pulptress and I’ve
stopped guys like you for years.” The Gladys personality vanished
in an instant.
“
I am Oskar Von Rohm, a
noble man from the old country.” He turned and glared at the locked
door. “You’ve spoiled my dinner for the evening. I’ll have to
satisfy my appetite with you.”
“
You can try,” she
taunted.
Claw-tipped fingers reached
for her throat. She slapped the reaching hands aside and slammed a
hard right to Von Rohm’s face. The German aristocrat staggered. The
Pulptress followed with a sweeping kick to his rock hard jaw, which
dropped her foe to one knee.
Von Rohm shook his head.
His dirt crusted fingers brushed the hair from his eyes. “You are
skilled, but those skills will not avail you.”
“
You’re tough. I’ll give you
that. Most thugs would be down for the count now.” She moved in,
feinting a blow with her right hand, diverting Von Rohm’s attention
from the hard kick that landed flush on his jaw.
“
Enough of this,” he jumped
to his feet. Von Rohm rushed toward her throwing wild powerful
blows.
The Pulptress blocked his
initial attack. Von Rohm’s face wrinkled into a fearsome snarl. The
breeze from his open hands fanned her face. A glancing swat struck
her shoulder. Although the blow barely touched her, it was the
hardest punch she’d ever felt, she stumbled back, her left arm
numb.
Von Rohm’s scaly hands
closed around her throat and squeezed. The Pulptress clawed at the
back of his hands opening wide deep furrows in the cold skin. Her
probing fingers sought out Von Rohm’s eyes. The forefinger sank
into the socket to the first joint.
A powerful blow cuffed her
jaw. Stars exploded behind her eyes. Von Rohm howled in pain as he
rolled from her body, clutching his wounded face. His right eye
dangled from the raw angry socket, bouncing against his cheek, held
only by a thick ropy cord.
“
You’ve hurt me. Few have
accomplished that feat,” Spittle flew from his gaping
mouth.
“
I guess I’m in good company
then.” She massaged her aching throat.
“
Witness my power,” he
bellowed. The cord tightened, drawing the orb back into place. The
deep scratches sealed over and healed in seconds.
“
Maybe so, Fella.” The old
man in the bathrobe appeared on the porch, a double barreled
twelve-gauge shotgun pressed against his shoulder. “Let’s see if
you can handle this.”
An ear splitting roar set
her ears to ringing. Smoke curled from the twin barrels. The force
of the blast lifted Von Rohm from the porch and sent him sprawling
in the dirt.
“
That’ll settle your hash,
you freak.” Nervous fingers hit the release. The shotgun came apart
at the hinged center. Empty casings sailed over his head. He
quickly jammed two shells in the barrels. “Are you okay, Lady?” His
eyes settled on The Pulptress.
“
I’ll heal.” She nodded.
“You saved my bacon, but you need to get inside, this isn’t over
with.”
A low moan came from Von
Rohm. “You’ll suffer for this indignity. I’ll grind your bones to
paste.” The words slurred and distorted. A claw tipped hand reached
out and fisted in the winter grass. He pushed himself up on his
knees. “You’ll both die a very painful death.”
Clear fluid leaked from a
gaping facial wound. The right side of Von Rohm’s jaw hung from his
face. Shattered teeth fell from his ruined jaw. He gained his feet
slowly, swaying on unsteady legs.
Before her eyes, the
mandible reformed. An internal force pushed the pellets from his
wounded face. They fell to the ground like tiny
raindrops.
The Pulptress raced toward
the disfigured nobleman. Her fists pounded his rapidly healing
face, opening the newly healed wounds. Von Rohm’s hands came up to
shield his face from the hurricane of blows.
Perspiration beaded her
forehead, despite the cold temperature. Von Rohm backed away from
her fury. A desperate backhanded slap caught her flush on the jaw.
The Pulptress landed hard on her back ten feet away. The breath
exploded from her lungs on impact.
She rolled to her stomach,
struggling to fill her empty lungs with air. Eyes blinked wildly in
an effort to clear her blurred vision. A dark figure lurched slowly
toward her. Her eyes focused on the kick aimed at her
head.
She couldn’t let the
killing blow fall. The Pulptress balanced her weight on her hands
and pivoted. The blow puffed her hair, missing her head by the
barest margin. She drove her foot into Von Rohm’s exposed ankle.
The limb popped like a snapped tree branch.
The Pulptress leaped to her
feet. The flesh tightened around her jaw, she would be sporting a
massive bruise within minutes. She climbed wearily to her feet, her
spaghetti legs quivered. Her only thought was to end this
quickly!
Von Rohm backed away, his
face covered in fresh cuts and bruises. The healing factor slowed
by the multitude of gaping wounds. “This isn’t finished. I will
have my revenge.” Fog rose from the ground, covering his feet,
engulfing his knees. “Your friends are hiding at the mansion. Their
deaths will be my vengeance.” The dense vapor rose to his chest and
covered his head. In an instant it disappeared, swallowed by the
night.
She squinted into the
darkness. The small bank of fog moved away from the dwellings
returning to the Old Charles Mansion. “I’ve got to get back there.
That thing will kill everyone unless I stop it.”
She charged ahead, chasing
a phantom. A dull ache centered in her swollen jaw, the night air
burned her throat. The Pulptress ignored the pain, shuttled it away
to some dark corner of her brain and locked it away. Her pumping
legs, swiftly covered the ground, her mind focused on a single
goal. Save Roscoe and his friends.
The mist settled on the
granite steps. It bulged and contorted, bending itself into Oskar
Von Rohm. He cast a hurried glance over his shoulder. The wounds
covering his face were scabbed over and crusty. He limped slightly,
as he climbed the stairs.
“
Away from me, Woman,” he
shouted. “I will be whole in seconds while you are spent and
tired.”
“
You’re not as confident as
you sound.” She bounded up the outside steps.
Von Rohm waited for her on
the porch, his face creased in a snarl. “I’ll not underestimate you
again. I won’t hold back any longer. Now is the hour of your
death.”
The stiff wind whipped the
cloak around his shoulders. He caught the lower hem. “Come my
pets.”
Rats jumped from the folds.
Hundreds of vermin with sharp chisel teeth scampered around her
ankles and jumped on her legs. Claws sliced into her calves, teeth
gnawed her ankles. She swatted the animals away, stomping on a
handful with her bulky shoes. Warm blood covered her legs and
feet.
A powerful blow cracked her
rib with an audible snap. Pain erupted through her side. An open
handed slap struck her swollen jaw and sent her sprawling. The rats
swarmed over her body, seeking her eyes.
“
You’re mine now. You’ll
make a faithful servant after I’ve broken you to my will. You will
be my willing crippled servant.” An evil smile split Von Rohm’s
face. Hands fisted in her blouse, he lifted The Pulptress into the
air. “Away with you now, your task in completed.” The rats
scattered, disappearing into the night. He pushed her head to one
side, exposing her warm inviting throat.
Drops of saliva fell from
the open mouth, burning like acid on her skin. The Pulptress
gritted her teeth against the pain. Off balance, she lashed out in
desperation. Her right hand struck Von Rohm’s strong jaw with
little effect. Her eyes gazed into the nobleman’s red rimmed orbs,
seeing only the lust for death and suffering.
“
Get off her.” Betty ran to
her side. A large silver crucifix gripped in her fist. She pressed
the sacred object against the monster’s cheek.
“
No!” Von Rohm screamed.
Smoke billowing from his face. He dropped The Pulptress, fleeing
from the pain. His eyes locked on Betty’s face. “You! Why do you
attack me? I spared you many years ago and this is how you repay
me.”
“
I lied to myself for years,
convinced myself you weren’t real. That you were only a figment of
my imagination, but no more. You’ll never claim another life. I
won’t let you.” Betty held the cross at arms length. “Gloria, take
Gladys into the house now.”
“
Get back,” The Pulptress
croaked her raw throat and swollen jaw barely able to form the
words. “Don’t get near him.” Pain raced through every fiber of her
body as she climbed to her feet.
Betty gazed at Gladys’
ravaged face, taking her eyes away from Von Rohm. He moved
instantly. His hand closed on the cross in her hand, squeezing
Betty’s flesh against the metal. Blood curling screams came from
both throats.
Von Rohm wrenched the
crucifix from Betty’s broken bloody hand. He tossed it to the
ground, turning his hand to examine the charred flesh. “I’ll bear
these scars for all eternity.” He threw back his head gazing at the
heavens. His lips spread unnaturally wide. A howl of rage filled
the night. “I’ve suffered these flea bites long enough.”
The Pulptress crawled over
the frigid ground. Her hand circled the hot silver crucifix. Her
swollen eyes fastened on Von Rohm’s hazy form. The monster squatted
over Betty, lapping blood from her crushed hand.
Gloria ran from the
mansion. Her hands fisted in the German’s hair pulling him away
from her mother. “Leave her alone,” she shouted.
“
Gloria,” Ross screamed.
“Get away from him.”
“
Again my feasting is
interrupted by insects.” He pushed her away. “You can’t stop me.
You don’t have the knowledge of the old priests.”
“
I know this painting is
special,” Ross shouted. “It’s just like a coffin. You have to have
it. It’s your refuge during the day.” He held the portrait by the
frame. “What happens if I destroy it? What happens to you, if you
don’t have a place to hide from the sunlight?”
Von Rohm spun. A light of
recognition flared in his eyes. “The curious boy, I remember you
from years ago. I see time hasn’t been kind to you. You should have
been mine that day, but you managed to escape.”
“
You didn’t answer my
question. What happens if I destroy your portrait?” Ross demanded.
He watched, as The Pulptress crept behind the creature.
“
Place the painting on the
porch and leave and I’ll spare your miserable life. You’re
tampering with forces you can’t comprehend.” Von Rohm swatted
Gloria away. The young woman crawled to her mother’s side. “You
don’t know what I’ve endured, trapped in that blasted metal prison
all this time. Starving, only feeding when a simpleton managed to
unlock the door. I’ll spare you and the girl if you back away
now.”
“
You need to back down, if
you want your home to stay in one piece.” Ross pulled a squeeze can
of lighter fluid from his chair.
“
Destroy that painting and
you’ll beg for death long before it comes.” He took a step forward.
His long fingers wrapped around Gloria’s throat, lifting her from
the ground. “This girl is special to you. Drop the painting or I’ll
snap her neck like a dried twig.”