The Drill

An original Ben Chatham fiction, with the best ending I've ever done for a story. Enjoy

THE DRILL

Ben woke up lying on a cold, sharp rock. It was jagged and had cut up Ben's back into shreds, with Ben's shirt bleached red with the amount of blood that had escaped his veins. Ben got up, cutting his shoeless feet on the rocks and releasing yet more blood. Ben looked around, trying to see where he was, but all around him was nothing but rocks. In the distance was the sound of drilling and the sky above was as grey as the stones below. With no other leads, Ben decided to follow the drilling noise and see what was making it.

Ben started walking, but the ground was nothing but sharp pieces of rocks, most turned red as Ben's already bleeding feet cut themselves deeper into the grey boulders of pain. Ben fell over and impaled his back into some more rocks, making him scream out in horrifying pain as the rocks carved themselves into his back and closer to his spine.

Ben was now dragging himself along the rocks, his feet unusable and his back now nothing more than a red hole which the shreds of his shirt kept sticking too. Everywhere on Ben was cut and bleeding ad the only reason why Ben was moving at all was because of his sheer determination to get to the sanctuary which was wherever the drilling sound was coming from.

Finally a beaten up Ben found the source of the drilling. A large drill was cutting down into the rocks below, making its way through the rocks to the ground beneath. Sitting on a deck chair, a man in a business suit and black glasses drank a tropical drink through a straw as he watched the drill. Ben dragged himself towards the man and, after a few minuets, the man finally saw Ben and got up, his feet encased within shoes which meant he didn't get craved like Ben had.

“There you are,” smiled the man as he finished his drink and threw the empty glass into the drill, where it was destroyed and turned into a fine powder. “I've been waiting for you.”

“Who are you?” croaked Ben even though his voice-box had been destroyed by the horrible rocks.

“I'm a representative from a number of banks. Basically, everyone hates you and wants you dead. The leaders of the world came together in a meeting to complain about what a bloody ass-hole you are and to decide how to kill you. In the end, everyone got bored and decided to go to the White House for a party, leaving me to kill you. So I got some friends to meet you, beat you up, take off your shoes and dump you here. I then set up this drill that you'd obviously hear and go to.”

“What do you need the drill for?”

“This.”

The man happily grabbed Ben and threw him into the drill, where he was quickly liquidized and killed messily within seconds. Ben's blood sprayed everywhere, covering the man who excepted the blood with a childish glee.

The man turned off the drill and walked away, heading towards the White House to join the party. His job was done and the world was a better place for it.

Wolf Prt. 2

The concluding part to this weekly serial. Winter of the Lost Prt. 1 coming next Monday.

WOLF
PART TWO

Anselm stood up, his face and hands covered in blood. He yawned and stretched, indiscreetly scratching his butt has he looked around Ben's flat. He eyes looked upon the blood all over his hands, the holes in the ceiling and the upturned buffet. He then looked at Ben who was kneeling down in a corner sobbing.

“What the bloody hell were we doing last night?” asked Anselm, realising there was a taste of fresh blood in his mouth.

“You...” started Ben, but he couldn't finish his sentence. Then, with one final push, he managed to finish saying “You are a werewolf.”

“I'm a wha- Oh dear God, not again.” sighed Anselm, suddenly understanding everything. “So I had big teeth, massive claws, and was growling at everyone before eating them?”

“Yes,” Ben managed to reply.

“Oh, I see.”

“I don't.”

“It's simple really. I'm a werewolf. Ta-da! I was waiting till the wedding day to tell you but... Well, yes I'm a werewolf. Any questions?”

“How?”

“Well it's simple. I got bit by another werewolf at age... what was it now? Age 15, yep. Age 15. Ever since then, when there's been a full moon, like today, I've turned into a cannibalistic werewolf, hell bent on eating people,” explained Anselm in too much of a matter-of-fact voice. “Of course while I was with the Cult of the Sun they kept me under control. Every full moon I had a giant metal cage to jump about in. If I was to go out and kill people, well, I could end up revealing stuff about the Cult of Sun and, of course, the Cult didn't want that.”

“How did you get back to normal?”

“Foxes bloody mints. Always been allergic to them. Must've done something to me, they normally do. Though they only usually give me gas. Now, if your flat on the very top floor?”

“Yes.”

“And have I created massive holes in your ceiling?”

“Yes.”

“And can I see the full moon through the holes in your ceiling?”

“Can you?”

“Yes I can. If I was you, I'd run!” growled Anselm as the metamorphism started to take place again. His nose began to grow in length and width, his hair began to sprout out from everwhere on his body and his teeth became pointed and sharp. He grew taller and fatter, his finger turned brown and grew giant yellow claws. His eyes became bloodshot, then yellow with a pure black pupils Soon Anselm was a werewolf yet again and the werewolf spied Ben.

Ben ran out of his flat, zooming though the front door and running straight into Kyle and Katie.

“What the hell's going on?” asked Katie, having been knocked over by Ben. She picked herself up and dusted herself off. “Fine how do you do. I come baring gifts of 'La merde des poissons' and what do I get? You rugby tackling me! Where do you get off!”

“Listen to me,” pleaded Ben. “There's a monster in my room, he used to be Anselm but – La Merde des Poissons? Do you know what that means in English-”

Ben was interrupted as Anselm burst through Ben's front window, landing in between Ben and his friends. It roared at the three people, seeing Katie and deciding she seemed the most delicious.

“Katie, he wants to eat you! Through the fish shit at it!” called out Kyle running away from the beast as Katie stood on the spot, staring at the sneering monster which was bending over her with a hungry stare in his eyes. “Quick!” shouted Kyle. “The bottle of wine! Through the bottle of wine! Throw the- oh for Gods sake.”

Kyle grabbed the bottle of wine from the petrified Katie, smashing it on Anselms head. The wine frothed on Anselm's eyes, the wine blinding him and stinging his eyes. Anselm tried to wipe the wine out of his eyes, but his claws just scratched his eyes. In the end Anselm gave up with his eyes and leapt to the nearest person he could kind-of see, and he ended up jumping over the flat balcony, falling down four levels onto the harsh cold pavement slab ground.

Ben ran down stairs till he got to Anselm. He had fell onto the ground in an uncomfortable position. The beast which had dwelled within Anselm had been calmed by the fall, leaving a battered Anselm lying in a pool of blood. Ben ran up to Anselm, grabbing his body hand as Anselm looked up at Ben's face.

“Well,” said Anselm, “That was a rather big fall. I think I might have broke my spine possibly cracked my head open. I broke something, overwise where's this blood came from?

“It's Monday night, New Years eve. A group of drunk chavs could have got into a fight, left blood everywhere.”

“No, it's my blood. ' Can taste it in my mouth you see. According to my watch it's 5 seconds to 2008. Happy New Year.” replied Anselm. “5, 4, 3, 2, 1- Happy New Year.” Anselm went limp, his eyes suddenly glazed over and became milky, staring into the darkness. Finally Anselm's body sank, dead. Ben bent over his lover, kissing him on the lips and closing his eyelids. Getting up from his knees, Ben went into his flat.

Inside his flat he found Katie and Kyle who were both silently drinking as Kyle played in the background. Ben took a bottle of wine from the floor and drank it, listening to Kyle's latest love song with a tinge of irony. Kyle had been there when he met Anselm, Kyle was there when he lost him.

THE END

I hope you enjoyed the story, drop a comment if you liked it (or if you didn't, unlike Spara I welcome some constructive critism of my work) and get ready for:

BEN CHATHAM REWRITTEN:
WINTER OF THE LOST Prt.1
NEXT MONDAY