Read Online The Z Club by J.W. Bouchard - Free Book Online Page B

was half-full with cloudy water.  Whoever lived there had done a lot of the work, because the cabinet doors under the sink were open and all of the cleaning supplies had been cleared out and arranged on the kitchen’s linoleum floor, leaving Fred an uncluttered work area.
    There was a shallow bucket on the floor.  Fred got down on his knees and positioned the bucket under the pipe.  He used a wrench to unscrew the fitting.  The water in the sink drained into the bucket.  Fred unraveled the extension cord and plugged it into an outlet on the wall next to the window.  He plugged his drill into the other end and tightened his auger onto the drill.  He pulled the drill’s trigger and the thick cable shot out of the auger several inches like a snake flicking out its tongue.  He fed the cable into the open pipe, running it in by hand until he encountered resistance.  He ran the drill, feeding the cable, finally managing to break through the obstruction.
    He fitted the pipe back together and turned on the tap, letting the water run for a minute to make sure it didn’t back up.  All in all, it was an easy five minutes of work.
    Before grabbing his tools, he wrote out an invoice by hand and left it on the kitchen counter where whoever lived there was sure to find it.
    Fred was getting ready to unplug the extension cord when he heard the creak of someone coming down the stairs.  “Got her all fixed up for ya,” he said.
    He turned around just in time to see the man coming at him.  The charging man was slow and stiff-legged, but Fred didn’t have time to react.  The man tackled him to the ground, jaws snapping open and closed like a rabid dog, spittle flying from his mouth.  Cleaning supplies flew everywhere as Fred crashed to the floor, the wind knocked out of him.  He kicked out with his legs, catching the man in the side of the head with his boot.  The man was momentarily dazed.  Fred used the opportunity to slide back and get to his feet.  The man hissed at him.  “ Brainsss!”
    “No fucking way!” Fred said.
    The man raised himself up.  Fred noticed that the man’s t-shirt was torn and bloody.  There was a large chunk of flesh missing from his right forearm and two of his fingers were also missing.
    The man shambled over to the counter and snatched a carving knife from the rack.
    “Look, if this is about your wife… nothing happened .  I swear.  All I did was talk to her on the phone, man.”
    The man lunged forward, slicing outward with the knife.  Fred jumped back, tripped over his tool belt, and landed on his ass.
    “ Brainsss!”
    “What the fuck are you?”  Fred scooted backward until his back hit the wall.  A wood cutout that spelled Home Is Where the Heart Is fell off the wall and clattered to the floor.  Fred picked it up, bringing it up just in time to block another downward swing of the carving knife.  He kicked out again.  The man’s knee buckled and he collapsed.  The carving knife came down with enough force that the tip of the blade sank an inch into the floor.
    Fred saw the drill, the auger still attached, a few feet away.  He leaned over, grabbed it, and brought it up.  The man slithered toward him, grabbing Fred’s boot.  Fred took hold of the cable at the end of the auger, stuffed it into the man’s mouth, and pulled the drill’s trigger.  “Suck on this!” he shouted as the cable snaked its way down the man’s throat.  Fred tried to keep it steady, despite the blood that flew from the man’s mouth.  The man made gargling noises in his throat; his body spasmed as the cable shredded his insides.
    Fred let go of the trigger.  The man – monster was more like it, Fred thought – remained still.  Fred’s heart was racing and there was a sharp pain in his chest.  For a moment, he was certain he was having a heart attack; that it would explode any second now and he would die on the kitchen floor next to the monster he had slain.
    Suddenly, the man raised