Derailing Bedlam: Stand Clear of the Closing Doors, Dammit! Part 2 #fiction #adventure

As usual, here is your warning that this story has cursing, sex (not graphic), innuendo, and violence.  It’s my Rated-R action adventure called Derailing Bedlam.  This is the fourth outing (third official) for Cassidy and Lloyd, so feel free to click on one of the two covers to see how it started.  Each one is 99 cents!

Cover by Jon Hunsinger

Cover Art by Jon Hunsinger

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Lifting his face into the falling streams, Lloyd opens his mouth until the warm water dribbles down his cheeks. Lowering his head to take a breath, he imagines feeling the dirt and sweat slough off his skin. Running his fingers through his hair, he stops at a sore bump above his ear and sighs at the realization that he has been bitten by a mosquito. Hands braced against the wall, Lloyd stares at the bottles of shampoo and an untouched bar of soap. Opening each container, he takes a deep sniff until he finds one that he cannot resist using on himself. The serial killer coos and practically dances as he lathers up his hair, his sounds of enjoyment repeatedly broken when he catches a knot and yanks it from his head. Groping for the soap, he accidentally hits the faucet and adds more cold water to the shower. The sudden shock causes his muscles to briefly lock, but he quickly finds that the frigid temps are oddly soothing. With a shrug, Lloyd lies down in the bathtub and lets the water fall on him like a rapid rain.

“Why does it sound like you’re having more fun in there without me?” Katie asks from the main suite. Having changed into a simple shift, the warlord continues unpacking and keeps an eye out for a specific dress. “I know you didn’t help me pack, but did you happen to see my silver and black gown? They’re having a special party tonight, so we have to look presentable and . . . civilized. You are going to wear the tuxedo I brought, right?”

“Yes, but only because you promised I can wear my orange one at the next fancy shmancy shindig,” Lloyd replies before getting soap in his eyes. Reaching up with his foot, he makes the water warmer and wonders if he should simply take a bath. “I know you said no pelvis stuff until after the party tonight, but how about soaking together? We can get each other’s backs and talk about things that are on our minds. You know, like best way to kill someone with a spiral notebook, our opinions on turtles, mushy stuff, or about you and Laurencia.”

“Very subtle, lover,” she mutters as she finds the dress. Hanging it on the back of the closet door, she grabs a brush to groom her soft hair. “Where to even start with that insipid bitch? I do have to give Laurencia credit since she survived the first year riots while living on the streets and building her crime empire. Still, she’s a pain in my ass who is better off dead. She tried to take the military base from me to solidify her power, which led to a . . . incident. I might have skimmed the side of her face with a tank shell. Obviously, my aim wasn’t very good in those days since she’s still alive. There are rumors that she needed bone reconstruction, which made the scar worse and cost her the use of her eye. Anyway, that’s all you need to know about me and Laurencia the Ash-Bathed Duchess. Not sure why she picked such a stupid title since nobody uses it.”

“I meant, did you set her up to get bumped?”

“You really think I’m capable of such a plan?”

“At the risk of not getting any, yes. I have the utmost faith in your intelligence and cunning.”

“Won’t say if you’re right or wrong, but the compliment definitely earns you some extra attention tonight.”

Smiling at the celebratory whoop from the bathroom, Katie focuses on putting the rest of their clothes in the closets and dressers. She stops at a large suitcase that does not match the rest of her collection, the open lock making her cautious. Grabbing a shotgun from one of her dress’s skirts, the warlord inches forward and nudges the container. The wobbling makes her think that it is empty, but the fear that it is a bomb stops her from testing her theory. Leaning over the suitcase, Katie sniffs at the handle in the hopes of catching the scent of any explosives that she can recognize by odor. All she can pick up is that the last person who touched it used hand sanitizer, which she feels is another clue that she is dealing with a bomb. Hastily writing a note on a pad by the door, she puts the paper on the suitcase and places it outside where one of Tyler’s employees can take care of the problem.

The instant Katie turns around, a pair of strong hands catch her by the throat and lift her against the wall. She aims the shotgun at the grinning man’s stomach, but the weapon clicks empty. Looking to her right, she notices a small pile of ammunition in the trashcan, which has been padded with a cushioned bag. The lanky assassin’s arms bend as she struggles, making her think he is more flexible than he appears. Pushing off the wall, Katie nearly knocks her attacker over until he shifts and stretches to the point where his joints are about to dislocate. With a grimace of pain, he regains control of their grappling and slams her back into place with enough force to drive the remaining air from her lungs. Refusing to give up, the warlord kicks and punches even as her vision begins to darken around the edges.

“This is just sloppy,” Lloyd says as he reaches around the assassin. Grabbing both of the man’s thumbs in one fist, he pulls him off Katie and raises his arm to let her slip by. “I’ll give you credit for sneaking in here, but you have no clue how to choke a person. That method only works if you have all the time in the world and are stronger than your victim. Guess you’re the type to prey on weaker people, which is a statement that I know is going to cost me the points I earned a few minutes ago. Look, double-O dipshit, you need to place both of your thumbs against the throat and put more focused pressure on the windpipe instead of pushing on such a wide area. You could crush it or, at the very least, weaken your target faster. Although, you might have a small problem with this technique in future considering the possibility of permanent nerve damage.”

With a vicious twist and wrench, Lloyd snaps both of the man’s thumbs and he continues yanking until he feels exposed bone. Blowing his enemy a kiss, he shoves the assassin into a closet and turns around to open a dresser drawer. The assassin rushes back to punch the serial killer in the head, but his fist is met by the sharp edge of the machete. Using the stuck blade as leverage, Lloyd flips the gurgling man onto the floor and frees his weapon. He is about to straddle the intruder when Katie clears her throat and brings his attention to the fact that he is naked. Cheeks slightly red, the serial killer grabs a fluffy robe that does very little to cover his more sensitive parts.

“In my defense, it was a cold shower,” Lloyd argues, putting his machete on a table. He is about tie his robe when he spots a white dot in the assassin’s mouth and stomps hard on the man’s stomach. “Thought you could swallow a cyanide capsule, huh? Guess they disguise those things as breath mints these days. Smells like one too. Okay, maybe I jumped the gun on that one. Do we care who sent, Mr. Bendy?”

“Probably not one of our more memorable enemies since this guy is obviously cheap and terrible at his job,” Katie replies while massaging her throat. Taking a sip of water, she checks herself in a mirror and frowns at the prospect of wearing a scarf. “I’m going to be spending the entire party trying to hide these bruises and telling people who notice that it wasn’t you. Maybe I can hide all of these with makeup? Last thing I want is to make Tyler think this maiden voyage is in danger already and should be cancelled. We need to make sure the train reaches Portland. For friendship and future dealings, of course.”

“I’ll never talk,” the assassin announces as he draws a knife.

Lloyd rolls his eyes and yawns as the man fumbles with the weapon, which is easily smacked away. “No talking until the talented and attractive killers are done conversing. I get the sense there’s something you’re not telling me, dear. The same way one can tell they’re going to get hit by truck when they find their face already stuck in the spinning wheels. Care to be honest with me? I’ll even settle for a lie that explains why we should care about the fate of this moving story hook.”

“Fine, but this isn’t the place for this conversation,” the warlord claims as she walks into the bathroom. With the sound of running water behind her, she returns and remains in the open doorway. “Like you said before, we should take a bath to discuss things. It won’t be that easy though. You have until the tub is filled to finish off that assassin. Can’t use your machete or any other normal wea-”

Without a word, the serial killer drags the man to the front door and drops him in the opening to repeatedly slam it against his neck. “Stand . . . clear . . . of . . . the . . . closing . . . doors . . . please! Wow, that was a really odd noise. I heard the neck snap on the fourth word, but then there was the popping and splattering. Even I’m grossed out by that one. Maybe we should contact a maid to get this cleaned up since it sprayed across the hallway. Can you hand me a towel, honey, and I can wrap it around the neck to stop the . . . Never mind. Head just kind of rolled off like a cheap golf ball getting blown off a tee. On the plus side, I didn’t get any blood on me! So, score a victory for hygiene.”

About Charles Yallowitz

Charles E. Yallowitz was born, raised, and educated in New York. Then he spent a few years in Florida, realized his fear of alligators, and moved back to the Empire State. When he isn't working hard on his epic fantasy stories, Charles can be found cooking or going on whatever adventure his son has planned for the day. 'Legends of Windemere' is his first series, but it certainly won't be his last.
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7 Responses to Derailing Bedlam: Stand Clear of the Closing Doors, Dammit! Part 2 #fiction #adventure

  1. Good piece. Lots of dark humor today.

    Like

  2. L. Marie says:

    This should be a Netflix series! 😀 Though I don’t know who would play Lloyd or Katie or Cassidy (though I usually picture Charlize Theron).

    Like

  3. Pingback: Derailing Bedlam: Stand Clear of the Closing Doors, Dammit! Part 3 #fiction #adventure | Legends of Windemere

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