Tim blinked, trying to chase the memory from his mind. The agonizing screams of that baby, seeing that same look in Alicia as she'd watched her daughter being torn apart by Animal, had brought the memory of what Dad had done to Binky rushing to the surface, making him feel helpless. The feeling was so great that Tim turned away from the scene, throwing up and crying.
Jesus motherfucking Christ! What the luck are we doing?
He'd forced himself to watch the rest of it. Forced himself to watch as Animal had ravaged the infant in front of its mother, who screamed and moaned and strained against the ropes binding her to the floor as she tried to break free. Al had remained silent, catching it all on film. When Animal started in on Alicia, it got a little easier to watch; Tim was used to watching Animal torture and kill adults. Even then, watching this scene was harder than all the others. He had thrown up a second time as the memory of Binky's death rose in his mind, and he'd had to fight back the sudden unmistakable feelings of regret he was now beginning to feel. Jesus fuck, I never thought it would be this bad. Christ, I never thought it would be this bad.
Animal was standing in the center of the room over the worn metal bed frame, naked and covered in blood and pieces of flesh. Even the black leather bondage hood he wore for the shoot was drenched with it. He stood rigid, hands held out at his sides, clenching and unclenching his blood- and flesh-stained hands. Tim stood up from the pool of vomit on the floor and saw with a sickening sense of horror that Animal still had an erection. His dick was covered in semen, blood, and red gooey flesh.
What was left of Debbie Martinez was huddled at the foot of the bed. More of her was on the floor and walls.
There was virtually nothing left of the infant. Just pieces, realty.
In his frenzy Animal had even eaten parts of the infant. Another first. Tim wondered if they could get more money for the film now that it had cannibalism in it.
"Goddamn," Al said, packing away his camera equipment. "Goddamn, but wasn't that some shit. Jesus Fucking Christ!"
Tim was panting, trying to catch his breath. He felt hot and sweaty. His eyes felt hot and moist; he felt the unmistakable dampness of tears on his cheeks. He didn't think he would react this way, that he would actually weep the way he did. He had watched Animal torture and mutilate people before. He had watched Animal stick his prick in places of the human body not designed for phallic objects as whatever junkie whore or butt boy he was doing wailed and screamed in pain before passing out and going into convulsions. Probably the grossest scene he had witnessed was the first time Animal had skull-fucked one bitch while she was still alive. The bitch had been uncon scious, yeah, but Animal didn't give a shit. He was paid not to give a shit. Animal didn't even use his knife to gouge the woman's eyeball out; his thumb and forefinger had sufficed perfectly, and the woman was still screaming when Animal guided his dick into her blood-spurting eye socket. Tim had watched that one in morbid fascination, not even aware that he had thrown up at that shoot, too. By the time Animal was pumping his cock in and out of the woman's eye socket, she was beginning the shuddering dance of death, hemorrhaging out of both eye sockets, her nose, and her mouth. She had even shit blood when Animal came.
Until tonight, that had been the most extreme flick they had ever shot.
"Hey, Tim. Tim!"
Tim looked up. Al was grinning at him. His lean features were sweaty. And even though his hazel eyes danced with glee, Tim detected something else in them. Something that suggested that even Al had been disturbed by this latest shoot. "We did it, man! We fucking did it!"
"Yeah," Tim said, turning back to Animal, who appeared to be gaining control of himself. The body of the baby's mother, Alicia, was lying on the plastic tarp floor at the foot of the bed. Her sightless eyes stared up at the ceiling. Her face was a mass of contusions and cuts. Her torso was sliced open, the flesh spread apart like a dressed-out deer to show her inner works. Animal hadn't dragged them out like he usually did when they filmed a snuff flick; he'd merely jacked off over them and come inside her body cavity.
Tim looked at Debbie's horribly violated remains, then back down at Alicia's corpse, still in a sense of awe at Animal's performance tonight. Three times was the most Animal had ever come during a shoot, and tonight Animal had come at least five times. Five orgasms, three dead bodies.
The sound of Al packing up his camera gear snapped Tim back to reality. "We gotta get the fuck out of here," Al said. "Animal, go take a fucking shower and wash that shit off of you. Brush your teeth, too. I can't have you looking like a fucking horror-movie serial killer all fucking evening.*
Animal turned around, and for the first time Tim was struck with cold fear as the dominiatrix's muddy eyes fixed on him from behind the leather mask. It was the first time Tim had ever felt this way about Animal; mostly he liked Animal just fine. The guy was witty, smart, funny, nice to be around. And he was good-looking, too. He really did look like an all-American boy. He certainly knew how to put the charm on around the women. When he wasn't playing the role of a dom, he was a financial consultant for a large international firm. He made good money, surely more than enough so that he didn't have to partake in the role of a sadist for the snuff and torture films he starred in. But then, as he had explained to Tim one afternoon after they'd dropped off a film to a buyer who had commissioned it: "I like pain, and I enjoy inflicting it on others." There was no arguing with logic like that.
And as for his stage name, well, when he donned the mask and slipped into the role of a dom for one of his and Al's films, he was… well, an Animal.
Animal's eyes flicked from Tim to Al, then back to Tim again. He rubbed his hand over his sweat- and blooddrenched naked torso. The room they were in was splattered with it. The plastic tarp they had rolled onto the floor was slick with blood; it was also running down the tarp they had nailed up along the walls. It was on the ceiling. Al would have to get in here tomorrow and paint the ceiling. Getting rid of the bodies was going to be easy. All that needed to be done was to move the bed frame, roll the bodies into the tarp, and stick them in the back of the van. Tim had found a nice secluded dumping spot a few weeks ago. It was in a remote area; no one would think — of looking for them out there.
"Time's a-wastin', people," Al said, winding up cable.
Animal turned and walked into the small bathroom off the bedroom. A moment later, the shower came on. Tim wandered outside for a breath of fresh air; the smell of blood, puke, and shit was too much for him right now. He had produced eighteen snuff films over the past ten years, and he had never gotten used to the smell of death.
Tim looked up at the star-filled night, breathing in the fresh mountain air. Despite that bit with the baby, it had gone good tonight. Debbie and that Alicia chick were perfect; those in the circle had been itching for something different in the flicks he produced. They had wanted something new, something fresh. Tim could surely see where they were coming from. Watching the same breed of whores and bun boys getting raped and sliced up was getting old. But it was definitely safer. Nobody ever missed the kind of kids that sold their asses on the Hollywood streets when they turned up missing. Christ, they were from all over the fucking place. They came from the cornfields of Nebraska, the deserts of Arizona, the heavily wooded areas of Maine, the swamps of Louisiana. Fuck, one guy they'd used had come from Alaska! That guy had been a real masochistic freak. He had gotten off on some pretty heavy shit. Animal had only been too happy to oblige.
But these two women… that was a different story. Both of them had been good-looking as hell, much better-looking than the homeless chicks they usually used. They looked as if they had just stepped out of a Vogue shoot or something. That was one of the requirements the client wanted for this shoot; he'd even had somebody in mind and had provided Sam with a physical description and a license-plate number. It had been risky, but Sam said the client would double the money to match the risk and Tim had taken it. And then he had gotten even more lucky with Alicia and her kid.