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Known to his always changing apartment neighbors as "that weirdo who always sits outside on the porch and reads", Kevin will read just about anything except horror. Some of his short stories have appeared in print in such magazines as Lynx Eye, Show and Tell, and Starblade, among others. In his spare time when he isn't fooling with his short stories, Kevin is still plugging away at his first novel--a mystery. Kevin also likes walks on the beach, sunsets, fishing and, like any beauty contestant, longs for world peace and an end to poverty and disease everywhere. He also is annoyed that the movie vision promise of "2001: A Space Odyssey" never came about. While wanting permanent moon bases immediately, he will settle for chocolate and hold it just right so that it sorta looks like The Monolith.

Package Of Pain by Kevin R. Tipple

Mike Thornstein sat in his truck in front of his own house as a light drizzle coated the windshield. The package was there again, even though it wasn't supposed to be. He had been promised by everyone that it was all over. The investigation was supposed to have ended months ago. He had been cleared, publicly exonerated, but nothing changed.

It sat there wrapped in plain brown paper on his stoop. When they first started showing up every Friday like clockwork, his colleagues had searched for the sender. Each one had been mailed from a mailbox in Fort Worth. Television had "Walker," but all Mike had was bureaucratic bosses that decided the packages weren't a threat. When the sender wasn't identified after a few weeks, manpower and resources were delegated elsewhere. Mike was still on suspension while awaiting assignment, albeit very unofficial, and the packages were still coming. Something had to be done to end it.

The windshield wipers slapped across clearing the glass. Visible again, the package sat there waiting for him. He turned the engine off and listened to it tick as it cooled. The glass slowly misted over the drizzle continued. The package dissolved from view into globs of water on the glass. Sitting there, watching the mist fall, wasn't going to solve the problem.

Mike heaved himself out of his old truck and crossed the leaf-strewn yard. Rain and wind had stripped most of the leaves off the trees, leaving just a few to decorate the leaden sky. Everything dripped of water and matched his mood perfectly.

The package was small and light, just like all the others. Wrapped in brown paper and twine, it bore the Fort Worth postmark from the downtown office. Beyond that, it was like all the others and would offer up no clues as to the sender. Mike shook it softly as he looked in vain for a return address. Nothing rattled, and it fit in the crook of his arm as Mike fumbled with the door lock.

Mike got the door open, stepped in and back kicked the door shut. He wandered into the den and placed it on the coffee table. The coat went on the couch as he headed to the kitchen.

The refrigerator beckoned, and he grabbed a beer made from some river out in the Rockies. All beer tasted the same, but this one had been on sale. His only preference was for long-necked bottles. Beer wasn't supposed to come any other way. The top went flying in the sink with a clatter, and Mike chugged it down in several large swallows. One soldier down and into the trash. A second one was pulled out and popped open. Mike took a long swallow and contemplated the job ahead. Fortified, he headed back for the den.

The bottle went on a small table next to the recliner. Mike switched on the reading lamp and grabbed a car key to slit the package open. Just like the others, there was purple tissue paper inside. He reached inside past the folds, and there was the expected videotape. It was labeled "Continued" in block letters. Mike popped it into the VCR, and as it began to play, he hit the stop button. The tabs were snapped out so it couldn't be recorded over, and he wasn't ready to watch. The tapes were a recent addition to the packages and made even less sense than the weird letters.

He sat in the recliner with the package in his lap. The beer trickled down his throat as he contemplated the box. The beer went back to the table making another wet ring to join its companion. Mike reached deeper in the box and found what he was looking for. Black lace brushed against his fingers as he pushed the tissue paper back. Nestled on the panties was one small bullet with a lipstick mark at the tip. It sounded like some stupid detective novel from the forties, but it was all too real. It was nice to know that this wasn't a threat, according to the big shots downtown. Mike wasn't reassured.

Mike twirled the panties on his finger, whipping them through the air. Now he had almost half a month's worth of panties and they were still coming. This made six bullets, all sealed with a kiss. He knew what he was going to see on the tape; it had been a variation on a theme. He didn't want to watch, but he had too. He tossed the empty box and punched the remote.

The machine whirred to life as Mike settled back in the recliner. The screen went white with static and then black as the recording began. Words appeared out of focus and slowly sharpened. Some things never change, Mike thought, as the familiar saying appeared. Block letters on white poster board sharpened on screen. Nothing new there at all. The camera pulled back as Mike began to read out loud to the silent room.

"I know what you did. Prepare yourself for the ultimate sacrifice. You are the chosen one."

Whatever. Just like all the others. Originality was a wonderful thing. The screen faded then slowly came back. The camera focused on a figure on the bed. A woman, at least it appeared to be a woman, was on her back in a black dress and boots. A small cloth covered part of her face, almost like a hood, and all of her hair as she lay on the bed with her legs spread open. She rested quietly as the camera focused in on the pulse beating in her throat. It was obvious that it was beating pretty fast and as the camera pulled back slightly, Mike could see her chest rise and fall.

He knew what was coming and wanted to fast forward. At the same time, he was afraid of missing something important as to whom the mystery woman was. It looked like the same room, but the black dress was new. The camera panned down her shapely body and across her long legs. It focused back in tight against a boot as music began to play on the tape. As the beat quickened, the boot began to flex. Mike took another swig of beer and the phone rang.

Hell! It somehow figured just when he was starting to get into it. Part of him dreaded the packages and part of him was turned on. While he thought he knew exactly what he would see beforehand; there was something that made him watch it all. He needed a name to go with that body. He hit the stop button hard and reached for the phone.

"Hello."

"Hey, Mike, how are they hanging?"

"Tender and unloved just like always," Mike answered.

Leroy guffawed in reply. The ritual greeting had gone back to when they were kids living at home. Leroy was now some hotshot salesman and believed there wasn't a woman he couldn't heave. He had quite a few over the years and as a perceived matter of charity had steered a few Mike's way. Mike had a brooding way about him that most women, while attracted to, couldn't deal with. Usually the relationship flamed out in six months and, with a promise to call, the lady was gone with the wind.

"Are you still coming over her tonight?"

"Leroy, I'm not. It's been a bad week and I––"

Leroy wasn't waiting for Mike to finish.

"You got another package, man? Bring it along, and we all can watch it and drink a few. Somebody will know her."

Leroy's parties were always the same. Leroy always set him up to get laid, and it usually ended in failure. The lady was stupid, drunk, easy, or some combination of everything. It just wasn't worth it to get off.

"No man, no tape. I'll pass. Party on with out me."

"I'm not taking no for an answer. Shower, shave, and I'll be over to get you. That way you don't have to bring that heap of yours. Don't forget the tape."

He laughed and hung up before Mike could say a word. Mike listened to the dial tone for a few seconds before hanging up. Damn it! He picked it back up and punched out Leroy's number. All he got was the squawk of a busy signal. Leroy's newest wrinkle on brother relations, and Mike was tired of it. He kicked his shoes off and sagged back into the recliner. Mike punched the remote and snapped the reading lamp off as the screen lit the darkened room.

As the tape began again, the camera was still focused on the black boot. It began to pan back up the body and focused on the top button of her dress. Manicured fingers came into view as the woman undid the first button. The hands slowly slid down and popped a second button open, then a third. They drifted on down as she kept the dress closed. Soon all the buttons were undone, but her dress was still closed. The woman began to move in the bed and cupped her breasts through the dress.

Mike felt himself begin to respond despite his best intentions. He shifted in the recliner as he watched. It felt like she was performing for just him. He had a voyeur streak in him, but this was so much better than watching some woman undress through her blinds as he walked the neighborhood.

The woman cupped herself and then eased one hand lower. Her fingers slipped in between the folds of the dress as she touched herself. Her back arched upward and her dress spilled open revealing her beautiful body.

Mike shifted in the seat as he watched. Every week it was a tape of the same woman, but this was the first time she had actually undressed. Usually, it was just her posing in various dresses. Over the weeks, the dresses had become more revealing as if she was searching for the right dress for him. Sometimes the dress would gape open just right, showing him the full curve of a breast. There was something familiar about her, but since her face was always covered, he wasn't sure who she was. But, this was the first time she had deliberately stripped for the camera.

Suddenly she sat up and stared hard right at the camera. Her face was still shadowed by the hood she wore, but the rest of her was very naked. The camera moved in fast until just her lips were in frame.

"Mike, I hope you enjoyed yourself."

The huge lips twisted in what could have been a smile but could have just as easily been a grimace. It was hard to tell.

"Get cleaned up, and I'll see you at Leroy's. I'll bring another tape just for you. We'll watch it together."

Another first. Now, he knew what her voice sounded like. Husky, but arousing in that whisky-sounding voice way. Sure was a weird way to get a date but maybe that worked for her.

He thought the tape was over but as he reached for the remote, she spoke again. "Trust me, Mike. All your questions will be answered. You will get all this and more, everything you deserve and then some. Later, lover."

The screen slowly blurred and faded to black. The tape stopped and began to rewind.

"Well, that was cryptic," he muttered as he headed for the bathroom.

The shower thundered on, and he soaped himself head-to-toe as he thought about the mystery woman. She was beautiful, and he wanted her, but he couldn't figure out what her game was. A bullet in a bra didn't make sense. Hell, the whole thing didn't make sense. Who sends packages to people showing themselves naked on videotape? The shock of the cold water snapped him out of his reverie, and he shivered as he got out.

The doorbell rang as he slid on a fresh pair of pants. He was only half-dressed as he grabbed the towel for another pass at his hair. It didn't matter what he looked like, it was Leroy after all, and he was late picking him up. Mike ran down the hall and pulled the door open.

"Leroy, where the hell––"

It wasn't Leroy. This was an incredibly beautiful woman who was quite clearly slumming if she was at his door. Lips below gorgeous brown eyes parted, and she smiled softly.

"Leroy said you were my type, and for once he was right. Why don't you invite me in while you finish getting dressed?"

She pulled the screen door open. He could feel her chest push through her black strapless dress as she brushed against him. He closed his mouth while she strolled down the hall. She didn't stroll; she floated like an angel. The thoughts of what she could do weren't angelic at all.

"Well, make yourself at home."

He pushed the door closed as Mrs. Peabody across the way looked out her front windows. Mike thought about waving at the old busybody, but the damage was done. The phone lines would heat up as she called all the neighbors. The old guys would wink and nod at him tomorrow from their porches, and the women would shake their heads in disgust. If everyone would stay out of everyone else's life, the world would be such a better place.

"I don't mind if I do. I hear you have beer. I'm going to get one. You want one?"

Mike heard the refrigerator open as he went back down the hall. Her voice was husky like he liked in a woman, and here she was offering him one of his own beers. Unbelievable. Nothing sexier than a woman with attitude and the body to back it up. He turned the corner and stepped out into the den.

She was standing there, looking at his mail as she lightly ran the wet bottle across the top of her dress. That dress could come off so easily.

Mike grabbed the mail out of her hands and slid it into an open drawer of his desk. He pushed the drawer closed and looked at her. All he really wanted to do was gaze into those eyes as he made love to her. It must be the after effects of the tape, he thought. Two women playing games this much in the same evening was too much to handle.

"Are you in the habit of barging into a guy's house and helping yourself to beer? Or reading his mail for that matter?"

Her eyes twinkled as she smiled. The bottle slowly went up to her parted lips, and she took a long, slow swallow. Her neck stretched back as she tipped the bottle as she went for the last of the beer. Foam slid down the inside of the bottle and into her mouth. She turned and tossed the empty into the trash.

"I'm sorry, but I really needed that. My name is Lauren, and Leroy sent me over. He thought I should pick you up and convince you to come to the party."

Her hands went behind her back as she stepped forward and looked up at him. She was so very close.

"That is, if I can't convince you to do other things." One fingernail grazed his chest lightly. "Let's party."

The phone rang as Mike was trying to figure out what to say. Talk about being saved by the bell. He went into the kitchen to answer it as Lauren put the TV on.

It was Leroy checking to see if his ride had shown up. He wanted to discuss how hot she looked until Mike convinced him he would never make it unless Leroy let him get dressed. Leroy laughed and suggested a possibility with Lauren and hung up. It probably wasn't legal here.

Lauren waved at him with the remote as he went back in the bedroom.

"Don't get dressed on my account."

Mike was saved from replying by the blare of the laugh track of some cable show. Mike dressed quickly and ran a comb through his hair. He was done and ready for whatever. Lauren had already switched the TV off and was waiting by the open front door.

"Let's party," she said as he grabbed a light jacket and followed her to the car.

The woman definitely liked black. Her car was a beautiful old black Camaro. He slid into the passenger seat and snapped the seat belt on. The car thundered to life as she put it into gear. She drove with confidence as she sped down the dark residential streets. Leroy always did give good directions and she drove like she knew the area.

Soon, they were out of the neighborhood and headed towards the interstate. Mike glanced over at Lauren and noticed her dress had slid up one leg, exposing a creamy white thigh. It flashed in the streetlights with an almost hypnotic strobe effect. Her muscles bunched and released as she worked the accelerator, moving the car through traffic. He looked up from her legs and straight into her eyes. Lauren smiled and swung her attention back to the road. The dress was left where it was. Mike smiled to himself. Maybe this evening was going to be fun after all.

She snapped it around a couple of corners and up the ramp to the interstate. The car roared as they headed north. The radar detector chirped away as they passed a restaurant row.

"My uncle had this car before he died," Lauren said.

Her voice had changed as well as her mannerisms. She wasn't playful at all now. She seemed hurt and angry as she snapped the car from lane to lane avoiding slower traffic. The detector kept up a steady squeal as the restaurants with full parking lots flashed by.

"What happened?"

She didn't answer, but glanced up at the moon roof. The drizzle had stopped, and it looked like the clouds were beginning to part. She snapped the lock and opened it slightly as she glanced over at him.

"Some bastard shot him and my boyfriend one night."

The car leapt forward as she accelerated around and in front of a semi. The horn blared on the semi. Lauren gave him the finger out the moon roof. Lauren tapped the brake at the same time, flashing the lights at him and then punched it, leaving the truck in our dust.

She was way past anything legal, and this was not the time to put a stop to it. Mike understood the need for speed to run from the demons; he had been guilty of this same stupidity. Questions would have to wait.

He settled back in the seat as the car flashed past other drivers, all alone in the night. He was so tired and Lauren seemed to have everything under control. The speed seemed almost peaceful as the tires hummed on the road. Sure, she was going too fast, but there was a certain beauty to it all.

He suddenly became aware that the car was stopped and he was alone. Apparently, he had fallen asleep. Mike popped the belt loose and eased the door open. He was nauseous as he stood and felt sweat break out on his forehead. He shivered and leaned over as he threw up on the gravel. It splashed into the parking lot as the breeze ruffled his hair. Finished, he turned and surveyed the area. Where was Lauren?

It looked like they were just below the dam at the lake. The interstate rumbled as the traffic passed along the top of the dam making the headlights twinkle in the night. The Corps of Engineers had dredged out a deep channel in the old riverbed. Then, they had created another smaller lake with its own dam below the large lake and it looked like they were parked near the public dock area for that lake. This was not the way to Leroy's place. He walked forward a little bit and stepped out on the dock.

The boards creaked as he walked out above the black water. Mike walked to the end of the dock, but there wasn't a sign of Lauren anywhere. All he could see was the occasional light from the shore twinkling as it was reflected in the still water. A board creaked behind him, and he turned around. He was starting to get a bad feeling about things and the puzzle pieces were slowly dropping into place. Talk about stupid.

It was Lauren, and she had the drop on him. It was too dark to tell what kind of gun it was. It really didn't matter; he was defenseless.

"This is it, Mike. You made it so easy for me."

Mike didn't say anything.

Lauren asked, "Don't you even want to know why?"

"I want whatever you want, Lauren." He slid one foot forward, toward her ever so gently. "Why don't you—"

The muzzle flashed and the gun roared as the bullet smashed through the dock inches from his foot.

"I forgot to tell you not to move just yet, Mike. I won't remind you again."

She wasn't making sense and he was worried. Maybe the shot would bring help.

"No one can save you, Mike. I promised you would get what was coming to you, and you will."

"Lauren, I––"

"You killed my uncle and brother, so I started sending the packages. I wanted to fuck with your mind, not your body." Her voice shook with rage. "I planned for this night. I found out who your friends were, what you liked, every disgusting thing!"

Her voice screeched with her rage. Mike wasn't sure what to say. Lauren's hands were shaking, and it was clear she was close to the edge.

"They were drug dealers, Lauren. They were the ones that started shooting, I didn't have a choice." He eased a little to the side, closer to the edge of the dock.

"Fucking murderer!" she screamed as the gun fired. His shoulder exploded into pain as he spun off the dock and into the water. He swallowed cold water and choked as he struggled to get to the surface through the inky blackness. Mike started to panic as he realized he couldn't see a thing.

Suddenly, he surfaced and smacked into the underside of the dock, cutting his forehead open. Mike sputtered and spat out more water as Lauren stalked above him. He was freezing as Lauren was screaming something while she kept shooting into the water. It seemed like she never was going to run out of bullets. A shot splintered the dock above and just behind him, burying itself into the wet pillar next to his hand. Then, all was quiet.

Mike let the current ease him back out from under the dock. His shoulder felt like it was on fire, and he was sick to his stomach. He was shivering in the water, but he wasn't cold anymore. It was getting very hard to think.

The current pushed and shoved him closer to shore. It seemed to suck him down one final time, before throwing him up and onto the shore. His feet snagged on the shoreline as the taillights of the Camaro came on. Lauren was leaving.

Mike pulled himself up on a rock as the car thundered away. The sound disappeared, but Mike could see the taillights as it rocketed up the access road along the side of the dam. She was heading back to the interstate.

Mike waited for the brake lights to flash. But in her rage she ran the stop sign as she pulled out on the interstate. The car leapt forward, but was no match for the momentum of the tractor-trailer rig that had the speed and the right of way. Metal screeched and sparks flew as the truck pushed the car along the guardrail. Then, there a horrible wail that sounded almost human as the car climbed up and over the guardrail.

The car flipped over and bounced off the front wall of the dam. More sparks trailed behind as the car silently fell. The silence was shattered with a thunderclap and roar as the falling car ignited into a fireball. Flaming debris plunged down the face of the dam, crashing into the park below. The jackknifed truck was stopped in the middle of the dam grinding everything to a halt. People were out of their cars to join the confusion as they looked down the dam to the smoldering wreckage.

Sirens started in the distance. As Mike turned around, he was lit up by a searchlight from the boat. He waved weakly at the boat and it suddenly accelerated toward him. White foam curled from the bow as the blue lights of the police boat began to strobe around him. Help was on the way, but it was a little too late for everyone.

THE END