Free Nightmare Fuel: The Ultimate Collection of Short Horror Tales by Wesley Thomas Page B

the dismembered head. It struck the ground and rolled forwards. Brain and blood trailed behind it. Hair spun round and round, whipping the face. More veins and arteries fell free, some falling out completely. Until the head was only a mere few metres from Rachel. Red, squidgy laces behind it. Once again Rachel fought the natural, morbid urge to stare at the head. But it would be too painful, and gross. The smell was otherworldly and almost intolerable. Trying desperately to distract from Sandra's decapitated head, Rachel started talking.
    “Not the tongue...part, the whole idea,” Rachel used every muscle in her face to express the most dazzling, genuine and seductive smile.
    “The whole idea?” Clarice frowned.
    “Oh yeah, the dirty, worthless college goers, screwing everything in sight or getting wasted, smoking pot. They had to die,” Rachel prayed this performance was convincing.
    “Exactly!” Claire yelled, her own face aglow with a huge grin.
    She was buying it! She believed me!
    “I have been wanting to do this for years, but never had the gall. But you.... you did what I only dream of,” Rachel praised the psychopath.
    Clarice meandered over to Rachel and crouched by her side. As she bent down her breasts were barely contained within the tiny top, bursting out like two scoops of vanilla ice cream. The short skirt also exposed what Rachel initially thought was peach frilly underwear. But then made the shocking and disgusting observation that she had been going commando. A smooth hairless area with a small vertical slit. It looked wet. Had she screwed the guy before killing him? Pulling her gaze away from Clarice's femininity, she looked into the maniac's eyes. Up close she seemed even more insane.
    “I am pretty genius,” Clarice bragged.
    “I'll say! But you have to be careful,” Rachel teased.
    “Why?” Clarice looked slightly offended.
    “You can't keep killing the way you are,” Rachel advised.
    Clarice stood and looked down at her captive, folding her arms in disagreement.
    “Why the hell not?” Clarice was clearly becoming curious as well as irritated.
    “You will get caught! Think about it, all these young adults getting off'd all the time. Haven't you seen the posters around town?”
    “No....” Clarice looked nervous, amazingly.
    “Yeah, posters are everywhere about missing college students. You need to kill homeless people, or at least mix it up,” Rachel scared herself at the callous tone she was taking at murdering innocent people. And she loathed herself for suggesting the homeless as targets. She regularly fed and cared for the less fortunate.
    “I see......” Clarice took a seat aside Sandra's head.
    Concentration smeared across the murderer's face. Rachel figured it was time to strike while the iron was hot.
    “I could help you?” Rachel tested the water.
    Clarice shot a suspicious glance at Rachel.
    “Really?” Clarice muttered.
    Wow, this is too easy. Candy from a baby. Or Candy from a killer.
    “Untie me and I will help you take out many people, without drawing attention to us....” Rachel suggested.
    Clarice was being swayed, it was written all over her face.
    Until... “Okay.”
    Yes! Rachel almost jumped for joy. Now the hard part was finding strength and courage to tackle Clarice and flee this nightmare. Clarice reached around and began freeing Rachel. But as Clarice fumbled with the rope Rachel felt a sharp pain.
    “Wh...” Rachel went to speak but was suddenly without the power of speech.
    “Did you really think I was that fucking stupid?” Clarice screamed so loud Rachel feared her eardrums would explode.
    Clarice retracted her arms revealing a needle in one hand. A needle? Rachel wasn't expecting that. A small remainder of yellow fluid left inside. Drops still oozed from the tip.
    “Don't worry, you will help me, just not in the way you wanted too,” Clarice grinned.
    She continued to converse but soon the words became blurs. Mumbles rang in the air. The