The Maid

I giggled as I raised the spinning mower blade all the way up and put it into forward. In front of me the Gardener laid vainly trying to roll out of the way. He wouldn’t make it. Absolutely amazing the poisons found in ordinary household products.

Disclaimer: This is fiction. None of the characters presented here are meant to represent anyone living, dead or otherwise. I the author reserve all rights.

This story was inspired by a story that quite frankly pissed me off. The poor main character while trying to do the right thing was betrayed and treated worse than an animal. That caused me to write this while I was still angry. I debated posting this, but since you're reading this now, you know what I decided. I hope I got the right tags up because this is a rough story that DOES NOT have a happy ending.
Grover

The Maid
By
Grover
1/22/2012

I giggled as I raised the spinning mower blade all the way up and put it into forward. In front of me the Gardener laid vainly trying to roll out of the way. He wouldn’t make it. Absolutely amazing the poisons found in ordinary household products. At the very minimum it was nice to know that while my brains had been thoroughly scrambled some of my knowledge still remained.

The man mowing the grass was going to get mowed! That made me giggle even more madly. It was only simple justice since he’d mowed my grass often enough.

Shaking my head, I did my best to concentrate on my next task. Stepping off of the fume belching green machine, (nothing runs like a deer!) I quickly caught my balance on my 8 inch platform heels. After all the practice I’d had it wasn’t difficult. Besides, I had no choice since, along with the electro-brain scrambling the so kind ’Ladies’ at The Institute had also shortened my Achilles Tendons. I couldn’t walk without them.

As I left the shed I quickly shut the door to keep blood spatters off my maid’s uniform. Smiling blankly, I hurried back to the mansion that used to be mine. Flouncing like I’d been conditioned, my double Dees danced in the lacy top of my PVC uniform. Mistress had made certain I knew the size of the implants since she’d had the Ladies tattoo a DD just so every time I looked down, I would know.

Entering the kitchen, I passed the Butler. He didn’t look too happy but I guess impalement does that. He’d fallen victim to the same household cocktail as the Gardener. So strange the stuff you could slip into coffee without anyone noticing. This time wisely I turned away from the sight. I didn’t need the giggles again from the Butler getting it up the butt with a plunger. Maneuvering him and it into place hadn’t been as hard as I’d feared. A little lube made up for the lack of muscle mass that was stolen from me. Poetic justice was my watch word today although he did have it easy. He never lubed up for me after all.

A check of the stove and the hot water heater revealed that all was progressing as it should. Feeling a peace that’d been missing for so very long, I wheeled the breakfast cart into the dining room.

The Master and Mistress were waiting.

Mistress, as always, ignored me. I’m after all only the maid. However I knew all too well the punishments if everything wasn’t exactly the way she wanted it. Over the past year I’d experienced them all, but after all this time they thought me broken. I honestly couldn’t say they were wrong. However damaged I was, it didn’t mean I was helpless.

She lifted the teacup to her lips while the Master took a sip of his coffee as he read his morning paper.

I’d seriously considered ‘additives’ to her tea, but had decided against it. She might be able to pick out the taste since tea isn’t the same as coffee. For him it was no choice at all. He was much bigger than I now, and I wanted every advantage I could get.

Standing attentively by her, I judged the time as best as I could. How long for my additives to be absorbed into his stomach lining? Part of the reason for taking care of Butler and Gardener was to get my timing down.

However my senses of such things were off just as I could no longer tell my right from my left. The Ladies were fiendishly good with their infernal devices. Making my best guess I struck.

The kitchen knife I’d carefully sharpened to a razor’s keenness whispered out slicing the air itself.

Parted curls floated in the air as she threw herself away, the shock on her so perfect face a joy to my eyes.

I didn’t have to look to know the Master was lunging for me. Bracing for the impact, I played my last desperate card.

Ironically he screamed like a girl informing me, I’d guessed right.

Turning to face him, The Master was staring at the steak knife impaling his hand. My programming prohibited me from striking them, which was why I’d missed with my slash at her. However, I knew he would react. All I had to do was provide something for him to run into. With his reflexes and senses dulled by my ‘special’ blend of coffee it’d been good enough. The Ladies’ mistake was linking their conditioning to this visually. What I couldn’t see, didn’t kick in that crippling pain and anxiety.

Board shouldered and handsome, the Master had once been my business partner and I’d believed also my friend. He’d revealed his true colors in so many ways that the very thought of the way he’d deceived me caused me to get ill in a way that had nothing to do with what the Ladies did to me.

Whimpering at the long blade though his hand, he stared at me in astonishment. I giggled, unable to help myself. Golf and Polo do not have the same toughening effect as spending months in the Big Sandy behind enemy lines vainly looking for WMDs.

Judging the distance, I swirled swinging the ten inch Damascus Slicing Knife. I hardly felt any resistance at all, although the dull thump told me I hadn’t missed. A few wet droplets hit me, but I was careful not to look at them. The Ladies had insisted that their ‘girls’ always be immaculately attired. Blood stains were so hard to get out of fabrics, but usually it was my own.

Meanwhile Mistress was gaping in horror at the Master. Stunned she tried to get to her feet, but froze as I pulled the .45 ACP out of where I’d planted it earlier.

“Fifi,” She commanded, her voice wavering with the stress. “Put that away now.”

“Oops!” I replied, giggling yet again. “Fifi isn’t here right now, but if you would leave a name and number she’ll get back in touch with you.”

Pretending to think hard, I rhetorically asked her.

“Now, how do you do this?” I put conscious thought out of my mind, letting years of training take over.

I racked the slide, slamming a round home into the chamber and clicked off the safety in one smooth move.

She turned white realizing just how dire her situation was right now.

“Wow,” I exclaimed. “There really are things that’re just like riding a bicycle. You really don‘t forget!”

It was really easy to recover my pistol. The desk had been at one time mine, and I always kept excess spare keys to everything. That was an old military habit that had saved my skin more than once. I suppose it was just more ego polishing that made the Master keep my firearm. Which reminded me of something I’d been meaning to do.

Turning my head, I pointed the Colt Combat Elite at the Master. I made myself disregard the little voice that moaned at the mess he’d made bleeding out. Setting the sight picture on his genitals, I closed my eyes.

The thunder of the eight rounds of .45 set my ears to ringing. A glance showed that The Master had been blown after his morning coffee just like he liked, blown away that is! About half of my wild shots had missed but had been close enough to turn what had humiliated me so many times into nothing more than ground meat.

Fighting my mad giggles again, I hit the magazine release and slapped in another before the first hit the ground. Old reflexes do die hard.

Mistress’s attempt to flee stopped as she did the ‘Bambi Stare’ down the ACP’s bore.

I tried for a moment to say her name, but nothing came to me. Just like with the Master, I could only think of her as Mistress. Sighing, I tried another tack.

“When you accessed my military records you should’ve realized that they were sealed and what you saw was the sanitized version. I spent the best years of my life for my country and left only when I no longer trusted the leaders to whom I’d sworn my loyalty.”

She blinked at me. She’d only known me as the self made millionaire who, besides the shooting thing, was rather a pacifist. There was just too much blood on my hands and soul. I know now that she’d taken my non-aggression philosophy for weakness, and used me. What could I say besides I’d loved her? Too late, I found out that love blinded me to someone that did not deserve it.

She shouted out another command word that made me twitch, but I smiled at her surprise.

“You see,” I explained. “I’ve been trained to resist and overcome that sort of thing. I must admit that what was done to me far exceeds what anyone training me envisioned, but I was still able to save a part of myself.”

A scent caught my attention. Hmmm, the smell of gas, it smells like …. Victory!

“A small part maybe, but enough I think to do the job.” Giggling I sing-songed, “Oh dinner is almost done!”

She kept glancing at the kitchen door.

“If you’re waiting for the Butt-ler or the Gar-dener to come rescue you, you’re going to be disappointed. They’ve been delayed for the rest of their lives.” That damn giggle took over again however my aim didn’t waver.

She tensed up. I couldn’t have that. Sighing, I did my closed-eyes thing again risking only one round. I couldn’t risk my conditioning shutting me down by deliberately shooting her.

See no evil! Do no evil!

She screamed in pain which made me smile. My aim had been dead-on hitting her in the thigh just as I wanted.

I stood silent waiting patiently for the begging to begin. It didn’t take long.

“You can’t kill me. I’m pregnant with your child!” She cried clutching her shattered and bleeding leg.

“No dice!” I replied. “His maybe, but not mine. I can still count. It’s been far longer than a year since that last time. Try again.”

“No!” She protested. “It really is yours. To make sure none of your relatives tried to cut in for a share of your inheritance after we had you declared dead, I was artificially inseminated by what we had stored. It really is your baby. We were going to force you to wet nurse you own kid!”

That made me hesitate. It was the kind of thing they would do. On the other hand, Mistress she might be, but she was also a professional liar.

Giving the air another sniff, I tried to judge things. The soup was really far along and if I didn’t stir it something else would. However, even if it wasn’t my child, it still didn’t deserve to die for her crimes. That is if she was really pregnant.

Policing up the knives, I didn’t want Mistress to get ideas after all, I peeked out the window. Rather unsurprisingly I saw a SWAT van parked in the trees. Someone must have observed my earlier handiwork and the gunshots had confirmed their suspicions.

Making my decision, I took her purse and turned it upside down, emptying it on the floor. Picking up a pair of tampons, I ripped open the wrappings and shoved one each into the entry and exit holes in her leg.

Ah, yet more satisfying screams! However they were sterile dressings and would keep her from bleeding out. Elevating her other leg I did what I could for shock.

Due to more of the ‘Ladies’ handiwork, just touching a phone was very unpleasant, so I kicked her cell phone over to her. Dialing was one of those tortures I hadn’t found a way around.

“Call 911.” I ordered with my vacant smile pasted on my face.

As she began babbling about mad women with guns, I took it from her.

“This is the Maid. Please patch us to the Police at this location.”

I didn’t have time for their negotiation tricks. When dinner was done, it was done and nothing could stop it.

I cut off the officer as he began his spiel.

“I’m going to release one of the hostages. She has a bullet in her leg and claims she’s pregnant. I’m shoving her out the door, but if you try anything at all, she’ll get another bullet understand?” No need for them to know everyone else was fatally indisposed.

He babbled back about deals and the usual double-talk.

“I said do you understand!” I ignored his pleas.

“Mistress!” I said brightly. “You have five minutes to get out of this house or you’ll be dead, dead, dead. If I were you, I would get moving!”

Shoving the wheeled cart at her to help her walk, I had to pull her up anyways. It took far longer than I liked, and I knew that when I opened that door it was likely a sniper would put a bullet between my eyes. However I had to take an extra-minute to shove the fire-proof box onto the cart too. Plans had changed, but with any luck it would be found.

Grabbing an umbrella from the stand by the door I opened it to shield us from sight. All I needed was to blind the sniper for a few seconds. She hobbled to the door, but I pushed her out with all the power I had left in me.

The hammer slamming me back told me I’d been too late. Old habits came to my aid again using that same energy to guide me back inside and shut the door.

One arm wouldn’t work, but I could still reach up and flip the deadbolt shut. Looking down at the damage I had to laugh. Above my heart was a mass of bloody jelly. The sniper had blown my boob off! The massive blob of silicon had likely kept him from getting an instant kill. As the pain caught up to me, I probably had a few busted ribs and who knew what else.

Well, only one thing left to do. This was one action those who carried a firearm for a living knew how to do right. Considering all the other things I’d been made to shove in my mouth, this wasn’t all that bad.

A flicker of light made me glance at the window. There was a SWAT guy peering in checking things out.

With a wink, I waved bye, bye. I was a warrior and would have my pyre.

***

Lt. Dolman cursed as debris continued to rain down. He had people down all over the place because of that explosion. The fireball was still rising into the sky and he had at least one dead body and another wounded. Who ever had rigged the thing had known what they were doing. The whole house must’ve been full of propane.

As the fire trucks and EMTs arrived it didn’t get any better. A prominent citizen and big contributor to the Mayor looked to be dead. That just added to the controversy of the wife’s previous husband who had died leaving all his millions to her.

Then they found the firebox.

A week later he wasn’t sure how he felt.

“Fire!” Commanded the head of the honor guard.

None of his guys had died but one was going to be in the hospital a while. You just don’t stand that close to an explosion without paying the price.

“Fire!“ The military men in formal dress blues fired another salute

The stuff in that firebox made him ill just thinking about it. How could someone betray their marriage vows like that? He’d seen couples shoot, knife, and beat each other senseless, but never had he heard of this before. They’d shut down that damn Institute and if anything what they found there was worse. The deliberate crippling and mutilation was inhumanity at its worst. The poor people they had found within were beyond pitiful.

“Fire!”

He flinched thinking of how one special forces captain had somehow overcome all that was done to him. Dolman couldn’t condone revenge, but he had doubts Captain Blake was sane at the end. The humiliation, torture, and brain-washing was enough to destroy anyone.

It almost made him sick that the former Mrs. Blake had plea bargained her way out of hard time. She would still spend time behind bars, however, she held the information that not only broke the Institute down but led to others.

He did smile that one condition was that she would not be allowed to keep the baby regardless of who was proven the father. Blake’s parents would be given custody. As for the fortune, it remained to be seen. Most would be held in a trust fund for the child, but he was sure that would be appealed by someone.

Funerals were never easy and his eyes teared up as the first clods rained down upon the coffin. He didn’t miss the grim-eyed men in army dress uniforms and their green berets. There weren’t any tears among them. The clenched fists and iron jaws told of another emotion.

No, he didn’t believe in revenge, but he truly pitied anyone the DA missed putting behind bars.

Crisply, he snapped off a salute to the fallen, and executed an about face. It was time to get back to work.

The End


If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos!
Click the Thumbs Up! button below to leave the author a kudos:
up
134 users have voted.

And please, remember to comment, too! Thanks. 
This story is 3170 words long.