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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Sitting between the two water tanks, Lloyd yawns and does his best to stay awake. After spending the last three days fighting restless sleep, the low hum from the filtration system repeatedly puts him in a mild trance. It is only an occasional clunk from below that jolts him back to consciousness and starts the process all over again. Coming out of his hiding place, the serial killer walks and skips from one door to the other several times in the hopes of waking up entirely. Putting his machete away, Lloyd jumps up to grab one of the ceiling pipes and does chin-ups and pullups for the adrenaline rush. Feeling pressure on his sutures, he switches to doing both with only one arm to avoid tearing his wound open. Within a minute, he is making monkey noises and swinging from one handhold to another while continuing to protect his injured side.

The fun stops when a chill runs up his spine and he hears a footstep on the other side of the left-hand door. A click from behind warns Lloyd that his only escape route has been locked, a strange ding making him think the trap was set on a timer. Drawing his machete, he licks his lips and waits for his mysterious enemy to appear. A teasing whistle slips from his mouth and he forgets the dull pain in his armpit, the promise of a good fight making him excited. When a minute of silence passes, the irritated serial killer lets out a sputtering breath and walks towards the door. Without warning, he kicks over one of the water tanks and slams his weapon into a large duct. The sound of someone scrambling away is a delicious noise to Lloyd’s ears, who grins wide and lets his head slowly tilt to the side.

Following his prey, he stops when a booted foot kicks the grating out at the far end of the car. At first, Lloyd thinks he is looking at a scrawny child, but the short figure moves further into the light to reveal a goatee. The assassin takes off a t-shirt from a famous amusement park and sheds his jeans to show that he is wearing a red bodysuit underneath. Removing his boots seems to make him lighter on his feet and the tight clothing acts like a second skin that does not hinder the killer’s movements. The Lone Horseman moves without a noise and practically glides over the floor, but flips away when Lloyd tries to slash at him. The white-haired figure frowns at how his target refuses to give chase, but does not try to advance again.

“I heard an interesting story during my last spree,” the assassin admits before taking out a candy cigarette. Instead of pretending to smoke it, he crunches it in his teeth and swallows the sugary snack. “There was a woman there who I was going to butcher, but she showed no fear. I asked her why and she said the damnedest thing. Lay a finger on me and my husband will feed you your own kidneys were her exact words. Normally, I’d laugh and finish the job, but then she said her name was Emily Tenay. That made me very curious. I’d heard rumors that the great Lloyd Tenay may be going domestic. She told me where you were going to be in return for her life and now I’m here to see how far you’ve fallen.”

“Was this woman practically naked, crazy in the eyes, and had a body that would give teenage boys a bad case of carpal tunnel syndrome?” Lloyd asks with a yawn. All he gets is a small nod, followed by a quick lunge that he easily evades with a sidestep. “I’d say I don’t know her, but I’ve done that joke before. The truth is that Emily is a hot as fucking hell psychopath who is obsessed with me. We’re also not married, so you’ve wasted your time. Thanks for letting me know she’s still lurking in my shadow though. As a going away present, you’ll get a vegetable basket. Hope you’re not allergic to kale.”

“There’s the rambling mouth I heard so much about,” the Lone Horseman says while crouching low. He rushes forward to rapidly slash at his target’s shins, but only one strike hits for a shallow cut. “The fancy footwork is fairly impressive. You should greatly appreciate that a killer like me has taken such an interest in you. I ignored a bunch of jobs to get on this train and see what a domesticated psychopath looks like. Kind of pathetic. Unless you aren’t taking this seriously.”

“I never joke about food allergies.”

“Hiding your fear with humor?”

“No, I’m just obnoxious and positive.”

“A shame that a killer with your reputation is such a fool.”

“Sorry, but you must be this tall to fight the Lloyd.”

“Oh, I’m really going to enjoy this.”

Lloyd giggles when the Lone Horseman leaps onto the edge of a water tank and darts along the curved surface. He blocks the slashes and stabs aimed at his face, but finds that he never has a chance to retaliate. Dropping to his knees, the serial killer rolls under the assassin and bounces back to his toes. After feeling a series of pops, a dull pain ripples along his left side and he feels blood seeping through his shirt. Lloyd abruptly steps forward to violently kick the approaching assassin in the legs, the blow causing the shorter man to fall face-first onto the floor. Removing his ruined top, he pulls off the bandage since it is not doing anything to stop the flow. He chucks the shirt at the Lone Horseman, who catches it with a stiletto and holds it out to his side like it is a dead skunk.

“This is truly disappointing,” the assassin claims before licking a little blood of his fingertips. The foul taste makes him spit the ichor out and he feels oddly faint for a second before regaining his balance. “That was strange. You either have a severe infection or something happened to poison your blood. Both are frustrating because I wanted to fight you without there being excuses for your loss. Now, I can’t say it was domestication that purged the predatory bite from your body. People will claim it was the wound and I took advantage of you instead of waiting for a better challenge. Where’s the vicious savagery that comes to mind when you hear the name of Lloyd Tenay?”

“I hear your concerns and think I have an answer that will satisfy both of us,” the serial killer says with a smile. His face suddenly turns into an eerie mask of demented fury and he lops off the assassin’s hands in two quick strokes. “There’s a major difference between a maniac like you and monster like me. You kill for ego and supplies and reputation and pride. All viable choices that give you a reason to improve and excel. They’re also very . . . civilized. Now, you might think I’m the same since I do kill for supplies, but that’s really only because starving to death goes against my survival instinct. No, no, no, my little plaything. Lloyd Tenay really kills because he enjoys it. The rush of adrenaline, the sight of fresh blood, the fear in the watery eyes of a living soul, and everything that comes with the act of taking a life. It’s like the sweetest candy to a child on Halloween. One has to savor the delicious treats that come their way, which is why I play with my food. Unfortunately, you just stopped being fun, so it’s time for this monster to finish his dessert.”

Feeling faint from blood loss, the Lone Horseman turns to run, but falls when his right foot is hacked off. Dragging himself on his elbows, the terrified assassin desperately tries to scramble away from the slow-walking serial killer. Looking over his shoulder, the man nearly screams when he sees that his enemy is nowhere to be seen. He finds the sudden absence even more unnerving than the chilling stares and insanity-fueled grins that continue to haunt his mind. The Lone Horseman musters enough strength to stand on his remaining foot, but he tumbles back when Lloyd drops from the ceiling pipes and lands in front of him. Another swing takes off his remaining limb, leaving the assassin helpless and barely conscious. Driven by pride, he tries to pull a stiletto out of his top using his teeth, but he drops it when his belly is slashed open in one blow. The pain causes the man to start crying and he opens his mouth to beg for his life, but stops when he meets the eyes of the psychopath looming over him. Accepting that he picked the wrong fight, the Lone Horseman closes his eyes and prays that he dies before he has to endure much more agony.