The Thunder of Nautilus

All Rights Reserved ©

Part Two


It would have been easy to kill Lily. It was so easy to get her into his car, and it would have been easy to take her into the woods. She was just a slut who didn’t care. She didn’t care who took her home, and she was unaware that he could slice her from her pretty throat to her unclean groin. But he took her home the way she’d told him, at first slurring her words so he didn’t understand and had to ask her to repeat, which she did with an obvious effort to speak clearly. She gave him precise directions once he turned off the main road and eventually came to a country road, which seemed to go on forever and ever more into the dark before he saw a light and a few moments later arrived at a desolate farmhouse.

After the body had burned, he dug a shallow grave and buried the remains. Afterward, he’d driven back to the hotel, where he showered, changed, thrown his clothes, gloves, and shoes into a garbage bag, and disposed of it all in the rubbish containers at the rear of the hotel. He then thought it was time for him to celebrate. He needed a drink and drove a couple of kilometers down the road, where he’d previously seen a sign for a nightclub.

The place was packed with losers who danced and behaved as if life was without danger. He smirked, thinking they were all weak and pathetic. Then he saw the woman, attractive but obviously drunk and nearly falling over on the dance floor. He walked towards her, gallantly took her hand, and guided her to a seat. “You probably need a drink. What can I get you?”

She laughed and yelled over the loud music, “Vodka.” When he returned with the drinks, she said that he was the

sweetest guy and asked him what his name was. “Jack—my name’s Jack . . . and what’s yours?”

“Lilith, but everyone calls me Lily, like the flower.” She laughed as if she’d just said something funny. “Hey,” she continued, “how ’bout coming back to my place? It’s not far, and we can talk. This place is awful—come on. I’ve got plenty of booze at my house.”

When they arrived at the farmhouse, they went inside and Lily said, without a hint of being drunk and not in control, “Thanks for bringing me home, Jack, you little ripper. I think I was just a little drunk.”

Jack replied, “Yeah, just a little. So where’s the booze?” “Cellar, I have a cellar, full, full, full . . .” she answered,

amused. “Come on, let’s go down into the dungeon.”

Jack followed her into the kitchen and down a set of steps into the cellar, which was indeed decked out like a dungeon. For a moment he looked at the instruments of torture, as if he’d just entered a museum, but when he looked at Lily, she looked back at him with a sardonic grin—and in that moment he knew he was in the presence of evil. Before he could think beyond what the—he felt a painful blow to the back of his head and fellhelplessly backwards to the floor.

Continue Reading Next Chapter

About Us

Inkitt is the world’s first reader-powered publisher, providing a platform to discover hidden talents and turn them into globally successful authors. Write captivating stories, read enchanting novels, and we’ll publish the books our readers love most on our sister app, GALATEA and other formats.