Short story 244.
By SifH


I broke the fangs of the unrighteous,
and made him drop his prey from his teeth.
-Job 29:17


The door opens on oiled hinges, yet Viktor flinched because the apartment was whisper-quiet, the thick door and walls provided an effective barrier to all sound. It was dark inside, not a single shaft of daylight could penetrate the heavy curtains. The only possible illumination came from candles and oil lamps. Every light bulb had been unscrewed. There was a mild smell of disinfectant in the air and a faint buzzing sound coming from somewhere.
Except for its darkness and silence, the apartment appeared normal. There were books on the shelves, romance novels mostly. Photographs lined the walls in cheap plastic frames, pictures from weddings, vacations and graduation ceremonies. He saw her in several of them, smiling, her arms around people who look like brothers, sisters, friends.
As he stepped into the living room, the buzzing became louder and the disinfectant scent more intense. When he opened the bathroom door, he saw why: There was no longer a bloodstain on the tiles, but the grout between them bore traces, rust-red and dry. The buzz was the sound of flies crawling on the floor, and on a wastebasket containing a bag. The bag was tied shut, but the flies circled its neck. The scent of disinfectant was strong there. Underneath it was a smell like roadkill or an old grease trap, a smell coming from the trash bag.
Viktor cut the bag open with a knife bayonet that he pulled from his Italian leather boot. The rotting smell made him gag. Quickly he turned away and spewed three liters of partially digested food all over the gray floor tiles. He wiped his mouth, very manly, with the sleeve of his denim jacket. He pulled himself together and lifted the black plastic bag out of the wastebasket and started shaking it over the sink, so that whatever was inside it would fall out.
Out of the bag and into the sink bounced a human head (minus the brain), a severed leg, some fingers and a male sex organ.
“Oh shit,” Viktor said. “it’s Ugly Bob.”
“Indeed it is.” A voice spoke softly behind him.
Viktor turned around and saw the most beautiful (and naked) creature he had ever laid eyes upon. She had thick red hair), rather large breasts, neatly trimmed pubic hair and an ass he would have taken several bullets for.
“Uhumm, miss Amy Receiver?” Viktor asked awkwardly.
“Yes, and who might you be?”
“My name Viktor Lame, miss Receiver, detective Viktor Lame.”
“So detective what can I do for you?” She asked and smiled, revealing two fangs, two beautiful fangs.
“Yes, um,” He wiped some sweat from his forehead. “what is the deal with the severed body parts in your sink?”
“Oh those.” She giggled. “Somebody must have removed them from the waste bin.”
“You mean…”
“Yes I killed Ugly John…”
“Bob.” Viktor interrupts.
“Yeah whatever, may I finish?”
“Sorry, go on.”
“Anyway I killed Mr. Bob in this very bathroom after Mr. Thorpe’s penthouse party last night. Ugly drove me home and I invited him in for a nightcap. He accepted the offer so we went inside and into the living room. When were getting pretty comfortable I couldn’t hold back anymore, so I grabbed the fireplace poker and hit him over the head with it. Then I sucked him dry, dismembered the corpse, hid it in various places around my house and sent his widow a corsage.
“You drank his blood?” Viktor asked, full of disgust.
“Yes, but I can not believe I told you all this. I am afraid I have no choice but to kill you.”
Before Viktor could even utter one word she leapt forward with incredible speed and kicked him right in the solar plexus. There came a disturbingly loud crushing sound from his chest then he slumped down on the puke-covered bathroom floor. The last thing he saw before he passed out was Amy smiling.
Amy the vampire leaned over the unconscious police officer. “We’re both going to enjoy this.” She said as she started the electronic carving knife.
Outside the vampires house off duty police officer Howcon Spears and his handsome gentleman friend Gunnar Stahlhammer, a sergeant in the royal Canadian air force, were enjoying a nice hit from a homemade bong, when suddenly they heard a woman (Viktor) screaming inside the house.
“Dude, that’s whack!” Howcon said.
“Yeah man. Ya want to check it out?”
“Sure dude lets ready our guns.”
Gunnar and Howcon walked to their car and popped up the trunk. It was full of weapons: Hand grenades, pistols, submachine guns and rifles. Out of the trunk Howcon picked up his .458 Winchester Magnum high power hunting rifle, with a night vision scope and laser sightings. Gunnar chose a subtler .440 cor-bon Desert Eagle with a 10” barrel and ivory plates.
“Okay.” Gunnar said. “You shoot out the living room window with the rifle and I’ll throw in a couple of smokers, then we shall put on our gasmasks and run inside. I’ll take the front door.” He pointed at the open front door. “And you jump trough the broken window.”
“Aight nigga.”
“Oh don’t forget these.” Gunnar handed Howcon a handful of very illegal depleted uranium bullets. “Them bullets pack a quite more punch than those standard issue spitballs.”
“Wow thanks man.”
“Yo we is tight dog, lets do this shit.”
Howcon loaded the rifles ten round magazine with the new bullets and took his position about ten meters from the living room window. Gunnar went back to the car and put on a Kevlar vest and a steel helmet. Then he loaded the desert eagle with seven deadly Teflon coated rounds, designed to pierce SWAT body armor.
Inside the house Amy was busy devouring Viktors liver and watching Oprah and doctor Phil discussing intimate relations with altar boys, when her living room window literally exploded inwards, shattered glass flew everywhere and the thick velvet drapes caught fire. Amy immediately bolted into the kitchen because the living room was filling up with smoke, and as the fire ate up the drapes: horrible sunlight.
“Lets go.” Gunnar screamed as he kicked the already open front door down. Inside the house there was an awful stench, like a skunk had crawled inside a mud beehive and died there. He was standing in a dark hallway there was only one door there it lead him to the living room. When he opened the door Howcon was already there putting out the drape-fire.
“Have you seen anything?” Gunnar asked.
“No man but I heard some moaning coming from the poopie room.”
“Cover me I’m going in.”
Gunnar cocked his pistol and opened the door that had a picture of a young man urinating on it, slowly. Inside he saw what looked like a man, but it had no eyes, ears, lips or fingers. The creature opened its mouth and it started mumbling something. Then Gunnar noticed that it had no tongue.
“Aw shit man, there’s some kind of freak in here.” Gunnar screamed as he came running out of the bathroom. “It must have killed someone cuz it’s all covered in blood.”
And before Howcon could even ask what the fuck was going on the thing came out, screaming like a mad cow.
“Shoot it!” Howcon yelled. Then he fired his rifle at the poor thing but missed, instead he shot a large hole through the wall that separated the kitchen from the living room. As Howcon operated the rifles bolt mechanism, Gunnar started shooting. The first shot blew off the things right kneecap; the second blew a hole through a green armchair that was just sitting there and the third shot blew another hole through the wall that separated the kitchen from the living room. Howcon had finished reloading and fired once more, this round was a bit more than the rifle could take and it exploded in Howcons hands. But the bullet went straight in to the things genitals, they splattered all over the wall behind it and the thing fell on its back unconscious.
“Shit on me man. SHIT ON ME!” Howcon cried as he held the bloody stump that used to be his right hand.
“Fuck man, look at all this blood, man.”
“I need to get to a fucking hospital man.”
“Hold on man, I’ll call an ambulance from the car phone.”
Gunnar shot the thing on the floor once more, now in the head, and ran outside.
While Gunnar was dialing 411 to get the number for 911 Howcon ran into the kitchen to try to find some bandages. Lying on the kitchen floor he saw the bloody corpse of a naked young woman. She had a very large and notable hole in her head. “Oh dear god,” He thought to himself. “The fiend from the crapper must have killed this beautiful young chick.”
15 minutes later the ambulance came, followed by the police.
Gunnar and Howcon both got life in prison for the torture and murder of detective Viktor Lame, the murder of ms. Amy Receiver and for having a stash of illegal weapons in their trunk.
Gunnar fell out of the prison bus window and got run over by a train on the way to San Quentin.
Howcon forgot to tie his shoelaces and tripped and fell on a rake, which punctured all of his major organs, whilst digging a ditch for the prisons slave-work program after only having spent a week in jail.