Bite The Hand That Feeds

By Mike Purfield

"In the mood for a little hopelessness, confusion and despair?  I have got just the book for you: Dirty Boots by Mike E. Purfield." - Cemetery Dance.

 

"If you're looking for a good read, something you've never experienced before, then this is the book for you." - SFReader.com

 

He's in your blood.

 

He feeds your rage.

 

He's coming back for you.

 

Deep in the suburbs of central New Jersey, John and Jessica Vasquez, twins of a single mother, are both bullied and abused in high school where their anger and rage festers. One day, they will explode.

 

That day comes when their long lost father thought to be dead resurfaces. A man who seeks out the Will in strangers and executes them. A random storm of violence and death.

 

An unstoppable man who will destroy what is left of the family.

 

Buy this supernatural thriller that will make you cringe and breathless from the author of Dirty Boots and Stereo Sanctity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: trash books
• Release date: Jan 24, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524258269

Mike Purfield

Mike E. Purfield died many years ago. Before his death he wrote many novels and short stories that have appeared in print and on the web. He had also worked as a book reviewer, a screenwriter, and a bookseller.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Patrick Nelson?

I parked the 1970 Chevy on Old Springs Road. It was an isolated, tree-lined road in a small town called Crescent, North Carolina. The night was pitch black and quiet. With the engine off, hood open, and hazard lights on, I waited.

A pair of headlights appeared from behind and moved closer, shining light into my rearview mirror, blinding me even though I wore sunglasses. The car slowed down and stopped at my side. The driver, a middle-aged man with a balding and graying head, stared with friendly blue eyes. He leaned forwards around his wife. She was the same age and manicured with complex hair and heavy make-up. She glared with disdain and distrust. A teen-aged kid sat in the back seat. He had long brown hair and wore a brown leather jacket with tassels and a hippy headband.

The Will wasn’t in them.

Need some help? the balding dad asked.

I smiled wide. Yeah, I had a bit of a breakdown, but my friend was just picked up. He should be back with a tow.

Oh, you sure? I can give you a jump.

No, the wife jumped in. He says he’s fine.

I’m good. Thanks for stopping, though, I said.

The manicured wife smiled back at me, my new best friend. Well, good luck.

Thanks, I said, dropping my smile. She seemed smart; I gave her that. She probably thought I was going to kill them. I was the right person to fear, but it wasn’t their time.

Okay. Dad shrugged his shoulders.

Mrs. Manicured Wife rolled up her window and told her husband to drive. The car moved on and the kid in the back seat peered through the back window.

Again, I sat and waited. I listened to the night birds chirping and the racoon moving over the dry leaves. Sometimes I would go for days without seeing the Will in anyone. It was frustrating.

For the next few hours, cars drove by. None of them stopped to help. One slowed down. The passengers peeked at me though their protective windows, eyes curious, mouths open, hoping to see me dead and bloody. But something told them to drive off; I wasn’t worthy. I worried that the sunglasses scared the Willed away. But I was in a bind. I couldn’t show my real orbs or they would never stop. I thought about firing into a car’s engine, pulling the drivers out, and inspecting them, but that would be too complicated, especially if it wasn’t their time.

A car finally stopped. This one had a young couple. The guy had long blond hair, longer than the woman’s. They wore matching denim jackets and drug induced smiles. They leaned out her open window.

Hey, need a jump? he asked.

I looked at them though my sunglasses and saw what I needed. I smiled wide with fake relief. Ahh, yeah. Thank God you stopped. I’ve been out here for hours and couldn’t get anyone to help me.

Aw, the woman said. Well God must have finally noticed you, huh?

Ha! Yeah. You can say that.

The young man got out and met me at the front of the car. He held out his hand. Name’s Charlie, he said.

I shook it.

He looked at me, waiting. Oh, I’m... I forgot whose body I was using and tried to think of one, but then the real name came to me. Patrick. My name is Patrick.

So cold tonight, you froze your brain, huh? Charlie said, pinching his fingers in front of his puckered lips.

Yeah, I said, getting his drug reference. Bet you know how it is.

Yeah, man. Happens to me a lot. He turned and pointed to the young woman. That’s my wife, Jolene, still smiling, Jolene waved. -and my son Casper is in the back sleeping.

I moved to the rear window. A newborn baby wrapped in cartoon pajamas and a blanket was strapped down in a car seat.

Charlie came up behind me and patted my shoulder. So, you got cables or do you wanna use mine?

I turned from the baby, smiled, and said, You know what, yeah. I could use some cables.

All right, man.

As Charlie went into his trunk, I wandered around his car. Jolene reached over the back seat and baby-talked to the infant, waving her fingers, trying to get it to laugh. I couldn’t tell if she was succeeding.

Charlie, with the cables slung over his shoulders, opened the hood and giggled at his engine.

Let’s see if I remember this correctly.

He bent over the engine and connected the cables. I moved out of his way so he could hook them up to my car.

Ok, we’re set. Let’s saddle up in our cars and give it a whirl, Charlie cheered.

We got into our driver’s seats. Jolene who made a goofy expression. I smiled, but I was wearing thin. I had never met a meat puppet that was addicted to smiling.

We started the engines and they purred to life. Charlie and Jolene cheered and clapped.

I reached under the seat, took out my .45 automatic, and slipped it into my jacket pocket.

I got out of the car and stood next to Charlie in front of his vehicle. Charlie disconnected the cables, dancing and humming a tune. Okay, friend. You should be good and on your way, he said.

Cables back on his shoulders, he turned to me and offered his hand. I shook it.

Have a good trip, I said, then grabbed his neck with my other hand.

Charlie’s eyes bugged out and his mouth released a harsh gasp. He tried to pull my hands off his neck. He wasn’t that strong, then again I had yet to meet a meat puppet that was stronger. Bored with watching him struggle for life, I tightened my grip and broke his neck. He went limp. I dropped him to the asphalt.

Leaning to the side of the open hood, I saw Jolene slung over the seat and playing with Caper. She was clueless. Deciding to do this fast, I slammed down the hood and took out my .45.

Jolene, surprised, turned to my gun. Fear crossed her face, no more smiles.

She inhaled to scream.

I fired.

The bullet broke a hole through the windshield, her head, and then out the back window. Jolene’s body rested on the seat, mouth open.

I walked to the side window. The baby cried, throwing its little arms up and down in frustration, trying to bust out of the baby seat. Jolene’s brain and blood covered it.

I considered taking the baby, raising it as my own. After all, it was a boy and I wouldn’t have to worry. But there would always be the thought in the back of my head: it would be all-human. It would have nothing of me in it except for what I taught it, and even then I wasn’t sure it would accept what I offered. I shouldn’t have to settle for less. Besides, I would go against the Will if I did take it.

I raised the gun, aimed at its screaming head, and pulled the trigger.

Chapter 2

Danielle Vasquez

Jessica Dando and I walked off a side road on Route 95 North in North Carolina. We had just left the Silver Kettle Diner that was not at all diner-like. Clapboard kept it together, a swift breeze could probably knock it over at any second, and there were screen mesh windows that didn’t do a good job at keeping out the flies. It was so back-woods cliché down to the people who ran it. The waitress had gapped teeth and a huge body covered with a floral pattern house dress. The cook in the back, who I assumed was her husband since they kept licking their lips at each other, made me lose my appetite. I wasn’t sure if it was his hairy animal chest that he chose not to cover with a shirt or the fact that he had a bad head cold and wiped the thin mucus away with the back of his hand.

When the waitress brought our order of burgers and fries to the table, she wished us luck and left. We stared at the food, which appeared to be normal. Jessica broke out laughing, hiding her face behind her hands.

Oh, my God, Jessica said. What do you think she meant by that?

I’m not sure, I said, inspecting the burger, using a steak fry as a probe.

Well, let’s eat up, right?

Oh, hell no. Who knows what kind of disease is between these buns?

Probably the same that are between yours.

Eiw! Bitch!

She laughed and kicked my leg under the table.

Not positive that we would run into another place to eat, least of all someplace better than the Silver Kettle, we ate the food, minus the meat patty. It wasn’t that bad, the fries were crispy and tasty; I had a big fetish for fries.

It was the summer of 1973. Jessica and I were on our first and most likely last adventure of our lives. We were roommates at the University of Massachusetts and moving into our sophomore year. We decided to go on a cliché road trip to Fort Lauderdale. We took the bus down to Florida. It was painful. Either we sat and looked out the window, or we read. Not that I wasn’t a big reader, it felt good to read something besides a text book or some Literature assignment, but after a while it felt like I had no choice but to read. Jessica on the other hand suffered more than I. She was a natural live wire. When I slummed through my full schedule of classes, Jessica handled hers with ease; even joining the Drama Society and the Tennis team. At first I thought she had a drug thing going. But no, she was just a natural speed freak.

We spent four nights at the Sleep Tite Motel on the beach and it was beautiful. The room was moderate, which was more than we expected. The only problem was that we had to share a queen-sized bed and Jessica had a problem kicking in her sleep, waking me up a few times.

The day before we had to leave, Jessica had the idea of hitching back to U Mass.

No way, I said.

Why? she whined, throwing her arms up and down and spinning around the motel room.

I laughed at her fit and said, Um, stupid. It’s dangerous.

No, it’s not. That’s just something parents instill in you to keep you from leaving the house. ‘Oh, don’t go out there, honey, or some bad man will pop out from behind a bush and rape you.’ Please! And besides, if there was any trouble, don’t you think two tough women like us could kick trouble’s ass?

Oh, so you’re expecting trouble?

No. Come on, Danielle. If we’re gonna have a last adventure, don’t you think we should really have the best one, like see the world before we get completely sucked up into the campus.

What do we tell our parents?

We’ll just say we’re staying a few more days, Jessica said. It’s not a big deal.

I don’t know.

She sat next to me on the bed. Listen, here’s the deal and I promise to stick with it. If we run into any trouble whatsoever, then I promise we’ll get on the nearest bus and go home. I swear.

And there we were.

So far it wasn’t weird; it was almost boring. We saw some interesting places like South of the Border and met some truly bizarre people, but it was not at all dangerous. Some of the bizarre folks gave us rides up 95 and, as weird as they were, they were also nice and polite.

It was my turn to stick out the thumb. I walked behind Jessica, and we talked about the classes we were thinking of taking that Fall. I considered Business Administration, but when I took astronomy last spring, I wondered about going for a science major.

When Jessica began talking about going in to an art field, a blue Ford truck pulled over on the side of the road in front of us. The driver popped his head out of the window and asked if we wanted a ride. Jessica and I moved closer to the Ford to get a better look at the driver. He was in his early forties with a full head of graying brown hair. His face was jovial and smooth, resembling the Pillsbury Dough Boy, reminding me of Jessica’s father. He seemed harmless.

Jessica made a questioning face. I nodded.

Yeah, okay, Jessica said, turning to the driver.

She opened the passenger door and made a grand sweeping gesture for me to enter. I took the pack off and mouthed the word No. She made angry eyes and nodded her head.

Hey, girls, don’t have all day, the driver said. Got me a schedule to keep.

I sighed, not wanting to lose the ride, and got in. I slid across the seat, keeping my bag on my lap.

Hey, now. You can stow those in the back, got plenty of room, he offered.

Nah, that’s okay, I said.

Jessica sat, her bag on her lap, and closed the door.

Aw now, you girls should feel comfortable, he said. Be able to stretch those young stems out. Not healthy for a plant, ya know. Ha ha.

My stems are too tall. Scare all the boys. Ha ha, Jessica said, smiling.

Oh ho ho. I seriously doubt that, he said, smiling back.

I politely smiled, wishing I were in the back.

My name is Clark, by the way, he said. Nice to meet you girls.

Hi, Clark, Jessica rushed. I’m Simone and this is my friend Dawn.

I flinched at Jessica and mouthed, Dawn?

She nudged me, signaling to go along with her.

Well, pretty damn pleased to meet you Dawn and Simone. You ready to go?

I shrugged.

Jessica said, Yep.

Well, let’s blast off.

Clark drove the truck back on 95 North. The ride was quiet for a few minutes, just the sound of rushing traffic and the breaking wind through the window. Clark developed a creepy habit of opening his legs, pushing into mine. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to get comfortable or to cop a feel? Maybe he was on the road all day and had a sore ass, or maybe he was trying to get me to look between his legs and comment on his groin.

I scooted over, making room for Clark, and pushed into Jessica. She jabbed her elbow into my side and whined, Hey, trying to push me out and kill me?

Sorry, I said, easing off.

Been on the road since 6 AM, Clark said. Let me tell you, my butt is numb to the bone. Makes me wonder if it’s even there.

I hear that, Jessica chirped.

So, Simone and Dawn...

Who? I asked.

Jessica nudged me and smiled.

Oh, yes. Us. Yes, Clark, I said.

Eh, where you headed to?

New York. We’re off to audition for a Broadway... Jessica began.

Damn! Clark said.

He placed his hand over his stomach and grimaced.

What’s wrong? I asked, scared he was going to crash into another car.

Got this pain all of a sudden.

Jessica appeared just as scared. Well, maybe you should pull over.

Don’t worry girls, I’m on it. Aw, damn!

He exited 95 and drove down a side road, passing a 7-11.

Hey, what was wrong with there? I pointed out.

Ahhhhh! God Damn, that hurts.

Jessica glanced at me and shrugged.

I think this will do, Clark said.

He parked the truck onto a bald spot in the woods at the side of the road. Jessica and I looked at each other, highly suspicious.

Um, Clark, Jessica asked.

One second, honey.

Clark placed his hands on his stomach and then moved them down to his pants. I developed a bad feeling, hoping to God it wasn’t true.

Damn, it hurts, he said.

Well, Clark, don’t you think we should get you to the hospital? Jessica said.

My bad feeling turned true. Clark opened his pants.

Don’t worry girls, I got a cure for this pain.

He reached into his pants and, before I could protest, he took his thing out.

Oh, my God, I screamed in disgust, pushing into Jessica.

Yeah, it is quite a sight, Clark said, jerking, moaning.

What is it? Jessica said, annoyed. She couldn’t see over the bags at the action in Clark’s lap.

He’s masturbating, I squealed.

He is not, she scoffed.

Uhhhhh, almost there, girls, Clark moaned. Then we’ll be back on the road.

Let me out!

I pushed Jessica until she opened the door. She fell to the ground and I followed her. I crawled to a tree. Jessica stood and stared at the action inside the truck, laughing, fascinated.

Clark moaned in climax.

Jessica laughed harder.

Oh, you like that, huh, Simone? he asked.

Oh, my God. I never seen one so small, she managed to say between laughs. In fact, with your hand in the way, I can barely see it.

W-what? Clark sputtered.

I picked up my backpack and slung it over my back. I moved to Jessica and grabbed her arm. Let’s go. She wouldn’t move, too into laughing at Clark.

Stop that! Clark demanded.

She didn’t.

You little bitch. I’ll show you what small can do, he said, getting out of the truck.

Finally realizing the deep shit we were in, Jessica stopped laughing and picked up her bag.

Clark came around the truck and we ran into the woods. If the guy had any sense, he would have turned around, dealt with the humiliation, and went home. But he didn’t. He chased us. Although we were younger and in better shape, we still had heavy bags on our backs.  Clark was close behind, his teeth bared and gritted in anger, pumping his short skinny legs.

Jessica led us to a ravine. She screamed and fell down the side. I slid down and stopped at Jessica’s side. I tried to help her up.

Ow! Fuck!

What?

My ankle.

Clark came upon the ravine, catching his breath and smiling.

Decided to give it up, huh?

Get the fuck away from us, I screamed.

Help, Jessica screamed.

Clark moved down the ravine and opened his pants.

Ain’t no one gonna... he began.

There was a bang and then a red hole popped on his left cheek, followed by the back of Clark’s head exploding. His body flipped back.

We looked around the woods for the shooter, fearing we were next. But no bullets came; instead, the shooter stood behind us at the top of the ravine.

Chapter 3

Patrick Nelson?

I stared down at the two girls. They were the same height and weight and appeared to be in good health; after all, they outran that meat puppet that was chasing them, and probably would have gotten away if one of them didn’t trip into the ravine. The white girl with long, light brown hair wore shorts and a U. Mass Rocks T-shirt. The Latin girl wore jeans and a T-shirt that had an odd design with the words Led Zeppelin on the front.

They looked up at me, scared, but still in control of themselves, not hysterical. That was a good sign: they were able to stand steady in a life and death situation.

Yes, they were perfect.

Danielle Vasquez

The man with the gun moved down the ravine. He wore jeans, a white dress shirt, and a pair of sunglasses on his emotionless, middle-aged face. He lowered the gun to his side when he reached the bottom and stood between Carl’s body and us. We kept silent and still, too scared to speak or move. Was he there to kill us or save us?

Get up, he said.

Jessica opened her mouth to speak, but she couldn’t find the words; probably the first time I saw her speechless.

The man sighed and looked up at the sky.

What? Speak no English? he asked.

We speak English, I said, my voice quivering.

Then get up on your feet.

I can’t, Jessica said.

He aimed the gun at Jessica and said, Yes, you can.

Jessica whipped her arms over her face as if they could stop bullets. I turned away, my eyes closed.

I can’t. I hurt my ankle, Jessica rushed. Please, don’t shoot.

He lowered the gun. We relaxed, lowering our arms, opening our eyes. The man knelt in front of Jessica and gripped her ankle. She groaned in pain. When he released her ankle, he said, It’s just sprained.

Jessica nodded. Okay.

The man pointed the gun at me as if it was an extension to his finger. Can you walk?

Yes, I said.

He stepped back. Good, then you can help her.

You going to take us to the hospital? Jessica asked.

No. Now let’s go.

Jessica looked at me, having no idea what to do. I nodded and told her it was going to be okay. I got on my feet and said, Come on, you can do it.

Jessica grabbed my hands and I pulled her up. Once she placed pressure on her good foot, she wrapped her arm around my shoulders, placing her weight on me, holding on for dear life. For a moment I held, too. For all we knew, it was our last goodbye.

Now, the man with the gun urged.

Ready to move, we turned to the man. He shook his head and sighed. You’re so pathetic.

What about him? Jessica asked, pointing at Carl dead on the ground.

He’s just as pathetic. In fact, your whole species is pathetic, but I’m sure you came to that conclusion one night in your life, but then fell asleep and forgot about it. Now move.

Patrick Nelson?

The girls aggravated me and I was beginning to think I made a mistake. They were a pathetic scene. Whenever they made a few feet to the top, one of them tripped and slid back down. They got angry at each other and often threw pleading looks, expecting me to help them. When they made it to the top, I ushered them to a path back to my cabin. I walked behind them, the .45 pointed at their backs. I told them to walk down the trail and keep their mouths shut. The wounded white girl wept while the Latin girl remained calm.

Danielle Vasquez

The end of the path revealed a small cabin. It was one