Free Survivor: 1 by J. F. Gonzalez Page A

appreciated him.
    "So how did you come to be a part of making snuff
films?' Lisa asked, hiding her revulsion.
    Mr. Smith was finished boarding up the window. "I
don't do just snuff films. I do a lot of stuff on commission.
Al and 1, we do a lot of extreme hardcore S&M shit. And I
ain't talking your everyday, run-of- he-mill slap-andspanking shit that bored yuppies and trendy goths are
into, either. All that rope bondage and whips and chains
shit that people are into? Forget that. You can get crap
like that at your neighborhood video store. The stuff I'm
talking about that Al and I deal in is extreme, sick shit.
Most of it is near-death stuff: mutilation, a lot of asphyxiation. Al's tapped into the extreme hardcore community real well. Some of the people he shoots for privately,
they're into this kind of shit. Whenever we get a job, he
comes to me and I ... well, I sort of comb through the
girls I know of that would fit perfectly."

    "What kind are those?"
    Mr. Smith looked at her. "Not like you, that's for sure."
    "Why's that?"
    "You're not like them, that's why. You got a life. A career.
You're a lawyer, right?"
    Lisa nodded.
    "The chicks I usually get for extreme hardcore films
and snuff films," Mr. Smith said, regarding her calmly,
"they've got nowhere to go but down. Sometimes we get
a request for a guy, and they're just as easy to get because
they fall into the same shit. Most of them are hardcore
druggies; runaways, hookers, people that aren't immune
to turning some pretty sick tricks, you know what I mean?
I find them, take them out, buy them clothes, show them
some money, they fall all over me. Turn them on to a bit
of blow or smack-most of them are already fucked up
on drugs anyway-and they'll keep coming back for
more. Once they get a taste for a shitload of money and
free drugs, they'll do anything. They'll even come back
for more. Shit, some of them are so fucked up when we
use them for an extreme hardcore film, they actually like
it! Can you imagine that? Getting off on somebody cutting your tits or burning you with cigarettes? Well, some
of them get off on it, and those are the ones we use for
the films. Like I said, they got nowhere to go but down,
and they don't give a shit what happens to themselves
anyway. Shit, most of them are too fucked up to care.
And most of them have the same sob story to tell: Daddy
abused them, or they ran away from a shitty home life or
some other shit. It don't matter where they come from as
long as they're on the way down. Long as they been on the street for a while and they got nowhere to go, no
mommy and daddy to go to, no boyfriend or husband
that will give a shit about them, they're the ones we use.
Long as nobody misses them, that's all that matters.'
'

    Lisa was disgusted, but she tried not to let it show. "So
why me?"
    *1 told you. The guys that commissioned this film, they
got tired of watching a bunch of junkie cunts being raped
and sliced up. To tell you the truth, a lot of those chicks
get so fucked-up-looking they look real skanky by the
time we use them. The clients wanted something fresh.
Shit, they woulda used a bitch like that Britney Spears
chick or Heather Locklear if they could get away with it.
They wanted somebody that was pretty and healthylooking, somebody that didn't look like they had been
shooting dope for the past five years, or who had too
many fucking scars on their bodies from S&M mutilation
"
or size-fourteen assholes from too many fisting sessions."
    So in other words, I'm nothing to them and to you. Lisa
thought, digesting the information slowly. If she had
heard this yesterday, she would have gone into hysterics.
Now she merely processed the information and shifted
gears. "I'll be missed, though," she said. "My husband ...
my parents, our friends. I'm not just some nobody. People
will want to know what happened to me."
    Waybe." Mr. Smith shrugged and headed toward the
entrance to the