Pact (standard:horror, 2455 words)
Author: Lev821	Added: Mar 22 2010	Views/Reads: 3062/2127	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A suicide pact is about to reveal the answer to one of science's mysteries.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

easily have been her grandfather. He waited in a bus-stop opposite, and 
they eventually came out, Kenneth following them. With arms linked, 
they walked to a metallic silver BMW roadster, looking like it had just 
come straight from the car showroom. Kenneth had nodded to himself. 
‘Yes' he had thought. ‘She was nothing but a gold-digger'. There was no 
way she would have looked twice at him if he was a common-or-garden 
average bar-tender or unemployed waster. What could she find attractive 
about a pensioner? The bulge in his trousers? He would have two. One of 
them would be his wallet, the one she stayed with him for, whilst 
giving him what he wanted. She had always been nothing more than a 
freeloading escort, or prostitute, leeching from wealthy men, 
pretending to love him, pretending to make him believe he gave her an 
orgasm, pretending he was a wild stallion in bed, and for that, he 
could not be blamed. There was nothing wrong with it. If she was 
willing to give him pleasure in his aging years, and to pretend he was 
Mr Perfect whilst he gave her his credit card, then who was to blame 
her? Jealous exes perhaps, or men who can only see an attractive woman 
squandering away her life for monetary gain and a wealthy lifestyle at 
the expense of Mr Right. 

George Howell was a big player in the gambling world. There was nothing
illegal or unlawful about him. He just paraded around as if he was 
everybody's superior, or leader. The police didn't suspect him of 
anything, and didn't suspect anything improper. He had stakes in an 
alcohol franchise and a mobile phone company. He was one of those 
people that always wore a suit, was constantly on a mobile, was always 
driving to meetings, and was never seen to do any actual work, but 
always seemed rich and authoritative. Phillipa was instantly attracted, 
and George paraded her around like a trophy, going to various functions 
and parties, showing her off. Kenneth, who lived in and around the same 
area, sometimes saw her with him, and heard through various grapevines 
the updates of their relationship. Meanwhile, boiling away inside him 
was the brewing anger of jealousy and hatred for them both. ‘How could 
she leave me for him?' he kept asking himself, and as he would never 
receive an answer, his brewing anger approached boiling point. 

When he found out they were getting married, he decided to confront
them. He went around to their house and approached them as they were 
leaving to go to a theatre. A fierce argument broke out between them 
all, and within Kenneth's jealous rage was the notion that he still had 
feelings for her, and the fact that she was getting married was a 
declaration of her commitment to George, and the final severing of the 
relationship with Kenneth. He simply didn't comprehend that it had 
already been cut. ‘Well you're nothing but a gold-digger' Kenneth had 
shouted. ‘Don't you speak to her like that' said George stepping 
between them. ‘Go on, get the fuck out of here. You lost her, I won 
her, you're a sore fucking loser, now go away'. ‘What did you call me?' 
he shouted. ‘He called you a fucking loser, now fuck-off' Phillipa had 
screamed. ‘Yes, go on loser' said George. With a bright red angry face 
Kenneth pushed George to the ground and pointed at him. ‘That's it,' he 
had said. ‘I know you've got an ex-wife who you still see, and two kids 
from that marriage. Well, I'm going to carve them up, and then I'm 
going to carve her up' he said, pointing at Phillipa. ‘Then we'll see 
who the loser is you fat fucking cunt'. With that, he had turned and 
stalked away into the night, and within a week, what he had said he 
would do, he did. George's ex-wife, whom he was still friends with was 
found dead on her kitchen floor with slashes all over her body, as were 
his teenage daughter and 27 year-old son. All hacked and slashed in a 
frenzied attack. Kenneth didn't think twice about doing it to Phillipa, 
such was his rage. Revenge is a powerful motive, and after George had 
found out about them all, he was sought out by Kenneth who had thrown a 
bloodied knife at his feet. ‘Now we're both losers' he had said. George 
had nodded, and had simply approached Kenneth, grabbed his lapels and 
pushed him back against a wall. Kenneth had let him. ‘You know you're 
going to get caught don't you? Even if you've covered your tracks, I'll 
lead them right to you, and I know people who owe me favours. One phone 
call and I can have you screaming in pain. I can have anything I like 
done to you. Money's no object. If I said to somebody, “skin this cunt 
alive” I'll pay you whatever you like, you know that somebody will do 
it. I think you and I both know that our lives are over. I have nothing 
to live for now. You've taken that from me, and if I let you walk out 
of here, you'll be watching your back for the police or someone who 
I've paid to carve you up. Either way we're both fucked'. George then 
threw Kenneth to the floor, and the whole weight of what he had done, 
and its implications flooded into Kenneth's mind, and he knew George 
was right, both their lives were over. ‘Let's make a pact. Let's kill 
ourselves' George had said. Kenneth had simply closed his eyes, and 
nodded. ‘There's something I'd like to try,' he continued, ‘An 
experiment'. 

Kenneth had been allowed to leave, his bitter enemy sure that he would
not run away, would keep his side of the pact, and George had set to 
work on building the guillotines, knowing that the police would be 
bound to question them sooner or later. He coerced Kenneth into helping 
him out, but most of the work was George's. Kenneth sometimes seemed to 
waver in his commitment, causing arguments to surface about why they 
were there. ‘Two weeks you'd known her, and you were getting married?' 
Kenneth had yelled. ‘It was love. I know love when I feel it' ‘It was 
lust. She was just a fucking gold-digger'. ‘We loved each other' ‘D'you 
really think she loved you? Some wrinkly old twat. Open your fucking 
eyes. She was after your money'. Kenneth had received a punch in the 
stomach then, and simply said as he laid on the floor in pain: ‘Fine, 
suit your fucking self'. 

After four days, the contraptions were ready, and the nerves coursed
through them as they sat there, feeling as though they were being 
watched by the guillotines. A metal hoop was secured into the concrete 
floor, and two ropes attached, fashioned into a knot with a trailing 
rope which would be pulled, releasing both blades. A ten-inch high, 
four by four wooden square had been constructed between both 
guillotines, so that it would capture their heads and stop them rolling 
away. George had, for a long time been fascinated by various 
experiments throughout the ages that had speculated towards the head 
remaining alive and aware after removal from the body. No conclusive 
proof had ever been discovered. 

As blood is the very life-force with which a person survives, George
believed that if the head was separated from the body, it would still 
use up the oxygen in the blood for around twenty seconds, therefore 
keeping the mind conscious, keeping the person aware enough to realise 
they have no body. George had bought from the pet shop a few animals to 
try out the contraptions Four rabbits, two puppies, a guinea pig, and a 
koi carp. They easily worked, basically cutting them in half. Only one 
puppies head seemed to survive two seconds after severing. It kept 
blinking as though confused, then abruptly stopped. The blades became 
stained but George had wiped them clean. The grey concrete floor was 
fairly bloodstained from the pets, as their corpses were dotted around 
the garage, a stench of decay permeating the air, but they seemed not 
to notice. 

As George and Kenneth faced each other, they both knew there was no
turning back. “It's time”, said George stepping up on the wooden 
construction. Kenneth did the same. “So if you discover that we're 
still conscious after our heads come off, what are you going to do?” 
“Well what can I do you idiot? I just want to satisfy myself, ok?” They 
both laid down, putting their heads through the wooden circles, facing 
down into the square. George could just about see Kenneth who was in a 
similar position. “Let's turn around” he said. “Don't you want to see 
it coming?” They both lay on their backs looking up at the blade. 
George wrapped the end of the rope around his right hand, ready to 
pull. “Any last words?” he said, “Any regrets, any apologies?” 
“Apologies? For what?” said Kenneth. There was a few seconds silence. 
“Kenneth?” said George. “What?” “Fuck you”. He pulled the rope, and the 
blades were released, taking less than a second to slice off their 
heads, both of which cracked together as they fell into the wooden 
square. Blood splashed on the wood, and spilled from the stumps of 
their necks, and with wide staring eyes, both of them with their mouths 
moving, Kenneth, for the next twenty seconds kept trying to breathe as 
he looked into the eyes of George, who lasted twenty-five seconds, 
mouthing: ‘It works...It works....It works......”. 


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