Bad Billy Read online

  Bad Billy

  by Jimmy M.F. Pudge

  http://www.jpudge.com

  First Kindle Edition, 2011

  “What do I think about Bad Billy? It's Of Mice and Men meets The Texas Chainsaw Massacre!" —R. Scott McCoy, Publisher, Stygian Publications, author of Feast and The White Faced Bear.

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  Want to know what Jimmy M.F. Pudge is up to? For more information on yo partna in crime and to learn what books are fixing to drop, go: http://www.jpudge.com

  Dear Partnas in Crime:

  It is my absolute mothafuckin pleasure to present y’all with a horror story that is quite possibly unlike anything y’all ever read before. Bad Billy has a history, gangstas, a long history, and first started in 2007 when I was still in the Big House on some bullshit charges. I had been writing stories for years, with little success at getting them published.

  But in 2007, things changed, and the tale “Bad Billy” was purchased by the small press horror magazine Necrotic Tissue. I was shocked to be quite honest with y’all that anyone would want to accept it. For years I’d been writing the deep shit. Stuff that had what they called themes. The stuff that nobody wants to read. The one time I decided not to give a damn, and BAM!!! An acceptance letter and a little bit of cigarette money to go with it.

  I was even more shocked when the publisher suggested I turn the story into a series. I remember running around the chow hall, ripping up my bologna sandwich in little pieces and throwing them like confetti to the crowd of disgruntled convicts in celebration of my success. Yeah, they tried to put a beat down on my ass for that stunt and yeah, I saw the hole for a little while.

  But it was the best three weeks of solitude in my life because I was a lowlife living the high life. I screamed at all my friends locked in their rooms about my success. We fished notes back and forth, from door crack to door crack, me writing down the sequel one sentence at a time. I was seeking feedback from my fellow man, and they approved.

  Bad Billy is an interesting journey. I’m glad to have you along for the ride.

  And now, for the feature presentation . . .

  Present Day, County Fair

  Daylight was coming. Law enforcement agencies from the surrounding areas combed the fairgrounds. Ambulances lined the fields, some EMTs having traveled more than two hours to claim the bodies that were thinly shrouded in the predawn mist.

  Ethan Lee pulled a fifth of Johnny Walker from his coat, unscrewed the top and took a long swallow. He sighed, ran a hand over his mouth, and continued his stroll down the rows of carcasses that lined the concession stands, game booths and rides.

  The sun was about to rise, and he still hadn’t seen sign one of his nephew. This is bullshit, he thought as he stumbled over a deceased woman who stared wide-eyed at nothing, throat slashed, gnats and ants feeding on her pretty face.

  He’d seen most of the bodies now, a staggering amount. He reckoned he’d lost count around fifty. Avery Police Chief Clyde Snider was walking with him.

  “Look at all these folks your nephew done done in,” Snider said. “It’s too much.”

  Ethan shook his head at the stupid sonofabitch. “Billy didn’t do this, Chief.”

  “Who did?”

  “I don’t know, but I know it wasn’t no Billy that done it. Billy eats what he kills. Like your son’s face; he ate it clean off.”

  Ethan knew that would get a reaction out of the chief. He wanted the chief to get mad. He wanted him to pull that big ass gun out of its holster and point it at him in front of the other officers policing the fairgrounds. Maybe then he could leave. Chief had been holding him against his will for two days now. Ethan didn’t want to hunt down his nephew. Hell, if there was one thing he did know it was that you didn’t go chasing tornados. Because what do you do when you finally catch one?

  Chief spit a wad of tobacco on Ethan’s shirt and slapped him hard across the face. “Don’t you ever talk about my son, you white trash sonofabitch. You pieces of shit shouldn’t be allowed to breed. Look at the chaos y’all create. Look at these dead people. I been in harm’s way for over thirty years now, and I ain’t ever seen nothing like this before. Not a goddamn thing.” Chief slapped him again.

  “Why don’t you just pull out that .45 and shoot me dead?” Ethan said, spitting blood, sipping whiskey.

  Chief smiled. “Oh, trust me. If they find your nephew before we do, I’ll put a goddamn bullet in your head. Blood for blood.”

  Ethan cringed as fear slipped inside his brain. The sudden image of being buried in the woods with a bullet hole in his forehead made him tremble.

  He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he barely missed the plumes of smoke in the distance. He spotted them and stopped, staring at his nephew’s body on the ground.

  “There he is, Chief,” Ethan whispered.

  The smoldering body suddenly combusted and flames licked the sky. There was a howl, and the massive creature rose to its full height of 4’7”. It seemed to look right at him and then Bad Billy fled, the fire engulfing him.

  Ethan took another long drink as he watched Bad Billy running across the fairgrounds, down the walkway, off the walkway into the field. “That is one evil sonofabitch,” he said.

  I hope he dies, Ethan thought, his hands trembling. That boy’s whole life had been nothing but one big mistake. Hell, he could remember 1979 like it was yesterday…

  #

  Motherfuckin 1979

  Ethan had opened the door to his sister’s trailer with a spare key she kept outside, under the cigar store Indian. He was in a new pink leisure suit, and his shoes were sparkling white. He’d spit shined those motherfuckers like they were going out of style. He needed money and he knew his sister was working at the gas station down the road. Her two children were at the car factory working. Wasn’t a soul in the house.

  He crept to the cookie jar on the refrigerator like a phantom and stole the cash resting inside. He counted the bills once, twice, three times. Thirty-seven dollars. He did some quick calculations and figured if the dance competition cost eight bucks, then he’d have at least several more dollars to drink with.

  Jackpot. He crept to the front door but stopped as he turned the knob. Hell, he’d just stolen cash from the cookie jar. Might as well check the whole place out. Hell, there could be a small fortune hiding in the bedrooms somewhere.

  He turned and walked down the hallway. He pushed open the first door he came to and entered his nephew’s room. His nephew and niece were both snoring, their heads the only thing not covered by a thick blanket.

  Ethan frowned. He wondered why those rascals weren’t at work. He noticed the clothing bunched up on the floor and the way Brenda Lee’s head rested near the back of Lee Lee’s neck. He suddenly understood and anger overcame him.

  “Wake up!” he shouted.

  The two opened their eyes, startled.

  “Get up you heathens!” he snarled. “Get up right damned now!”

  “I can’t” Brenda said.

  “You get up now you fat bitch!” Ethan howled.

  “Don’t you talk to my girl like that,” Lee Lee replied coldly. “I’ll kill your ass dead.”

  “That ain’t your girl, moron, that’s your sister!” Ethan said. “Now get up!”

  “I can’t,” the girl said.

  “Why not?” Ethan asked.

  “Because I ain�
��t wearing no clothes,” she whispered.

  “What you doing in our house?” the boy asked, his eyes narrowed to slits. “You trying to steal from us again?”

  “I wouldn’t ever steal from y’all,” Ethan said, a look of shock and hurt on his face. “I can’t believe you’d even think that, Lee Lee.”

  “Momma said to call the police next time you came here,” Lee said.

  Ethan shrugged his shoulders. “You go right ahead and call them, boy. And maybe I’ll tell them what I just seen. Maybe I’ll tell your Momma too.”

  “But we’re both thirty,” Brenda said. “We’re adults, and we can make our own choices.”

  “That shit just ain’t natural,” Ethan said. “What if you ever got pregnant girl?”

  #

  Present Day, County Fair

  Ethan finished off his Johnny Walker and watched his nephew dive under a trailer in the distance. He tossed the empty bottle to the ground. “I’ve had enough of this,” he said. “I’m leaving.”

  Snider pointed his .45 at Ethan’s head and pulled back the hammer, producing a deadly click. “Ain’t we going down there to get him? Don’t you want to see my son avengened?”

  Ethan looked around, hoping like hell someone would see the pistol. No one was paying any mind to the chief. “Listen,” Ethan said, “That boy was covered in fire. I’d say at this point he’s pretty harmless.” He laughed. “Hell, let’s go get him.”

  “I want to be the one to put that fucker out his misery. You understand me?” Snider said.

  Ethan nodded.

  The two men moved down the concrete walkway, under a water tower, then stepped off the pavement into the grass and descended a hill. The trailer looked rundown, the shutters hanging from the window sills, the awning drooping with the weight of rain water. The trailer was yellow where it wasn’t covered in red clay, and Ethan looked up, noting that being so far downhill was ideal for flooding conditions. He wondered how many times the trailer had been underwater.

  Snider was talking to several state troopers, pointing towards the house; they let him pass through the barrier of law enforcement officers to the mobile home. Ethan moved with the chief, his eyes set on the darkness under the trailer. It was set up about four feet off the ground, perched on cinder blocks. Plenty big enough for a fat fuck like Billy to squeeze under.

  “Why don’t you see if you can coax him out, you being blood and all,” Snider said.

  Ethan lowered himself to the cold ground and half expected to see flames. There was nothing but complete darkness.

  “Billy, this is Uncle Ethan. Come on, son, let me take you home. Things are gonna be okay from now on.”

  He listened for movement, but all was silent.

  “Come on Billy,” he said, the kindness fading from his voice.

  Ethan waited for a full minute, and the anger was now boiling within him.

  “Come out right now!” he shouted.

  There was no movement.

  “You sonofabitch!” he screamed. “I’ll fucking shoot your other ear off if you don’t get out from under there!!”

  Ethan sighed, sat up and brushed dirt from his shirt.

  “Anything?” Snider asked.

  “Not a thing,” Ethan said. “Not one damned thing. It smells like a roasted pig underneath that trailer though, so I know the fat fuck is still there.”

  Snider sighed. “Shit fire. I know those EMTs seen him running. They’ll be here any second. ”

  Ethan shrugged. “Maybe he’s already dead, Chief.”

  “Take another look.”

  Ethan got down on his hands and knees and looked under the trailer.

  “Do you see anything?” Chief asked.

  “No. Not a thing.”

  Ethan tried to make out shapes in the blackness covering the ground under the trailer. He frowned as he scanned the darkness.

  He sat up for the second time.

  Two hands shot out from the darkness under the trailer and immediately burst into flames. Bad Billy’s large head surfaced, scorched and blackened, dark smoke rising from his neck. The mouth opened and sank down into Ethan’s throat. Huge hands wrapped around his struggling waist.

  Billy’s upper torso wriggled in the sun, fire erupting from his back and spreading across the grass.

  Chief jumped back, startled at the sudden attack.

  Ethan let out a weak cry as blood spurted from his throat. He beat his fists weakly against Billy’s back.

  Bad Billy opened his mouth and sank his fangs into his uncle’s throat again and again, eating through the flesh. Ethan’s head fell off, and blood splashed the chief’s suit.

  Snider regained his senses and pulled his .45. He fired four times, and Billy screamed as the flames grew thicker and the smoke blacker. He grabbed his uncle’s ankle and took Ethan with him under the trailer.

  Part I: Tales of Innocence

  Brenda Lee was working at the Meat Mart, cutting cows and hogs and chickens, when a sudden bout of gas almost brought her to her knees.

  “Oh my word,” she said between stomach pains, sweat rolling down her fat pallid cheeks. “I’m hurtin something terrible.” She clutched her stomach, smearing blood all over her white apron and felt the need brewing inside.

  “Oh mercy.” She wobbled out from behind the meat counter, strands of her thick auburn hair flying wildly from the hair net settled tightly around her head.

  “You okay Brenda Lee?” her boss asked.

  “Just fine,” she said. She had to get to that bathroom. She could barely breathe. Damn those delicious barbecue rotisserie chickens. She shouldn’t have eaten two before coming in. What a fool thing to do. She clutched her gut and squealed. “Oh my goodness, I think I’m gonna die!”

  “Brenda? You don’t look so good. You want I should call an ambulance?”

  “I just got to do the dirty,” Brenda said. “Now shush up before I go all over the floor.” She gave up walking and ran for the bathroom. She pushed the door open, pulled down her khakis and sat on the toilet, straining herself red. Her head looked as if it would explode.

  “Devil get out of me!” she screamed. She felt something moving deep inside and pushed. She pushed again and felt it shift. “AHHH!!” she screamed. “Oh, it hurts. It hurts so bad!”

  Pain overcame her senses and she stood up from the commode, her hands pressed to the walls. One fist went clean through the particle board as she grunted and hollered and cursed like a mad woman. It felt as if she was splitting wide open.

  She felt hot liquid splash her legs and the smell was foul. She couldn’t stop the downpour. It kept coming and coming. It flowed to the door and pooled at the crack. There was blood in the water and she screamed.

  A knock on the door. “Brenda!” her boss shouted. What the hell is going on in there?”

  “Not a thing,” she tried to say between screams. “Nothing.”

  “You know you put a hole in the damn wall?”

  “Let me alone!” she shouted and smashed another hole through the particle board. “Get out of me Satan!” she roared.

  There was a sudden plop, and she fell to her knees, tears clouding her eyes. She heard sounds coming from the toilet. Something gently splashing around in the bowl. She turned and saw a baby. She reached in the water and pulled him out, cradling him gently in her arms. He was filthy, and the umbilical cord was writhing like a snake as he moved his little hands.

  She pulled a box cutter out of her pocket and cut the cord. She held the baby to her face and cried.

  “If only Lee Lee could see you now,” she said. Her brother had died just months ago, blown up by the government at a moonshine still in the woods. “He would be so proud of his son!” She ran a finger over his little mouth. “What should we call you?” she said.

  Written on the wall was Billy gives good head. “I know,” she said, “We’ll call you Billy.” She ran her finger over his mouth again, and he opened his eyes. She gasped at how close they were together. She gasped
at the size. Like tea saucers. Billy opened his mouth, and she was even more shocked by the six teeth in his small gums. They looked as sharp as razor blades. He bit her finger then and she threw him to the ground; his head smacking the toilet seat.

  “Bad Billy!” She screamed.

  And so it was that Bad Billy was born. The woman brought her child out into the cold rain and walked over a mile to her family’s house in the woods. “You are an abomination. A source of complete and total evil,” she told it as it grew into a toddler. At first she let it roam around the house, eating the rats and roaches. But then one night her dog Conway Twitty went missing. She had her suspicions about Billy. He was becoming too dangerous.

  After a series of consultations with her uncle Ethan it was decided he would be chained, bound to the basement floor until his pitiful life ceased. And so the evil rested there for years and years, always hungry, always moving, and always remembering…

  #

  The old woman closed the basement door on her horrible secret, a brewing mass of filth and rage chained to the basement floor. She could hear him, even now, laughing at something in the damp, musty darkness below her.

  She sat down in the recliner and tried not to think about her son. It wasn't Billy's fault that she had loved her brother too much. He was just an innocent mistake.

  Brenda Lee turned the volume up on the TV but could still hear him down there, yelling something evil to the spirits running rampant in his wicked soul. She couldn't understand what he was saying, and she was thankful for this.

  On his eighteenth birthday, he had broken his chains and walked up the stairs, kicked down the door and marched outside. It had been his first trip from the house, and the sun burned his pale, bloated body.