It’s Not Cement Boots, but it Works in a Pinch #2
He remembered they were all going to get blowjobs but then they said some stupid shit and pissed her off.
Instead of leaving her little cabin (Yes!
She had a cabin in the back of the Truck Stop) they beat her instead.
Beat her so bad Tristan thought they might have killed her.
It’d been about six months ago and there had never been an investigation, so they all forgot about it. Until now.
But Joy never did.
Joy had spent two weeks in a coma at the hospital.
One of her regulars had come to her cabin and found her bleeding and unconscious on the floor.
He called 911 and they took her to the emergency room.
She had a fractured skull, a broken nose, four broken fingers and one of her shoulders had been dislocated.
The bleeding on her brain is what sent her into the coma.
When she woke from the coma she had several months of physical therapy to heal.
All she thought about was getting her revenge.
There were no cameras by her cabin, although after she was released from the hospital, the first thing she did was install cameras inside and outside her cabin.
And she began to plan her revenge. She had many connections with all her satisfied customers.
She told a few trusted ones her plans. Carlos was the driver of this concrete truck.
He told her about this work site that would be filling sections with cement.
He left the truck where it was and brought Joy to it, showing her how to work it.
He offered to stay but Joy didn’t want him to get involved any more than he already was.
Caid was actually easier to plan. Knock him out, drag him under a semi. A little duct-tape and remove his shoes and socks. Let the truck do the rest.
One day she would go after Bryce but wasn’t sure how she would kill him. She’d worry about that another time. But she knew it had to be epic.
She focused her attention on Tristan again.
Even though he was paralyzed his face was full of fear.
Tears were streaming down the sides of his face.
She almost wished he could talk so she could hear him plead for his miserable life.
But if he could talk then he could escape.
Tit for tat. But she could imagine what was going through that brain of his.
She pulled her cell phone from her back pocket and checked the time. Carlos had told her how long it would take for the concrete to harden and what time he and the rest of the construction crew would be there. She planned this down to the minute.
It was time.
“I wish I could tell you that you’re going to die easier than Caid did, but I can’t.” she told him gleefully. “He died in pain. A lot of pain. This will be a different kind of pain, but it won’t necessarily be easier. Just remember. You three brought this on yourselves.”
Caid. I’m so sorry bro. Wait. Three? Oh fuck. She’s going after Bryce next.
The rumble of the truck noise had changed. Instead of the steady, spinning noise, now it was guttural and clanging. In terror, he watched thick grey cement slowly pour from the spout to the shallow grave he was paralyzed in.
Holy shit! She really wouldn’t do this, would she? She’s just trying to scare me, right?
Tristan began to breathe faster, which was hard to do in a body that couldn’t move. He could feel the cement spread around his feet and roll up his body like a surfer’s wave made of slow-moving concrete.
Fuck! This is real! If only I could move my body. Some part of my body.
By the time the concrete had reached his shoulders he was in full-on panic mode. His lungs couldn’t expand enough for the huge gasps he was taking.
Maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll pass out first and just never wake up. I don’t want to feel myself dying in a pool of cement.
He strained to move his eyes downward and could see the flow of concrete piling up at his feet.
His feet were actually buried in a huge grey mound.
But it wasn’t spreading past his shoulders.
He almost breathed a sigh of relief until he saw Joy walk around the truck, only to return with what looked like a huge garden hoe.
He wanted to scream when he saw her use it to push the concrete towards his head, spreading it around evenly to cover him more.
As she worked, she sang the cartoon song, “Happy happy, joy joy!”
For the first time in years, Tristan began to pray.
The concrete felt cold against his bare skin. Right now, it was almost covering his chest. He could feel it wrapping around his throat like a cold, wet scarf. Scenes of that night flashed before his eyes.
Tristan tried to pull off her shirt but only succeeded in exposing her breast and tearing it in the back.
He remembered her kicking Caid in the balls and Bryce punching her in the face.
That’s when it got even more out of hand.
They all beat her so long, maybe almost to death.
In their drunken stupor they stumbled out and drove off.
Somehow, they got back to the house without killing themselves or anyone else.
Now the concrete completely covered his body. He felt as if his face was encased in a scuba diving wetsuit.
Not scuba diving but cement diving!
If he could have moved, he would have laughed maniacally. His mind was hanging on by a thread. He didn’t know how Caid died, but he couldn’t imagine it was any worse than this.
As if she had read his mind, Joy stopped spreading and looked at him smiling.
“I suppose I could tell you what I did to Caid.” Her eyes sparkled as she said it and the smile wouldn’t leave her face.
“I drugged up Caid just like I did you. But I didn’t have to fake an Uber this time.
I let him pick me up in the grocery store.
They say you can meet your soul mate at the grocery store, and churches.
When he woke, I gave him a much smaller dosage than I gave you, he was tied to the underside of an eighteen-wheeler.
Just his hands. I left his feet down. Kind of hard to drag a person if they are completely off the ground. ”
Tristan’s eye widened just a hair.
“Yup. And for the nostalgia value, I put him under a truck in the very place where all this started. The truck stop where you three little shits almost killed me. It’s a shame I couldn’t see the end results, but I’m sure they were bloody spectacular.
Now for your buddy, Bryce. I have to come up with a grand finale. Something that makes yours and Caid’s deaths look like a party. He threw the first punch, so he should get the best. Saved for last.”
The concrete sludge continued to pour out slowly, while Joy walked back and forth, smoothing it out as she went.
The wet concrete was right at the edge of Tristan’s eyes and just touching the corners of his mouth.
He wanted so badly to lift his head, but he still couldn’t move.
Suddenly Joy went to the side of the truck and turned off the flow.
Oh, thank God! She was just trying to scare me after all!
Tristan pleaded with his eyes, even as she was shooting daggers at him from hers.
She stepped away and came back with an armful of rebar.
She set down all but one and started placing them across his chest from one edge of the depression to the other.
Straining his eyes, he could see slots where the rebar slid into place.
She placed them all, about six or eight inches apart.
Then she went back to the truck and hit the button again.
The flow poured out, the first of it dumped out like a water balloon, leaving a loud plop as it hit the concrete already on top of him.
Noooo!