The Baseline Fisher

So Norman was stumbling home from the bar when he was kidnapped by the serial killer known as The Baseline Fisher, who had been kidnapping and murdering people all summer. The police had no leads, and their only contribution so far was occasionally locating the mutilated corpses that the killer dumped into the irrigation canals every few weeks. 

Norman woke up in a deep pit. There was some kind of lamp high above, and it cast just enough light into the pit to make out some of his surroundings. His arms and legs were shackled, and an iron collar was around his neck. He was also wearing some kind of harness, and a long chain was attached to it at the back. The chain itself rose up and out of the top of the pit. Impossible to climb out, bound as he was. 

He wasn't alone. Two men, wide-eyed and emaciated, bound the same way he was, were huddled on the floor and staring at him. One of the men was missing both his arms at the elbows, and other had legs that ended at the knee; two stumps wrapped in bloody, blackened bandages. 

"Where am I?" Norm asked.

The man missing his arms gave a bitter laugh. "You're in trouble, friend, that's where you are. You've been caught by the Baseline Fisher, and your torment has just begun."

"What do you mean?" Norm asked.

The man held up his missing arm. "You see this? I woke up here a week ago, and The Fisher dragged me by my chain. He's got a whole butcher's shop up there. He strapped me down to a chopping block the size of a table, and he filleted my arms right in front of my eyes. Carved and cleaned it, and laughed as I screamed. And then..." He trailed off with a whimper.

The second man spoke. "He caught me two weeks ago. I woke up here, same as you, and soon enough I was pulled up by my chain. The Fisher tied me up to a metal chair made out of twisted rebar. He pulls out this rusty saw, and he starts sawing off my leg. Slowly, really taking his time with it, so I could practically feel every tooth on the blade as it tore away at me. Getting through the bone took the longest. I blacked out, and when I came too I saw him waiting patiently. When he sees I'm awake, he grins and starts right in to work sawing my other leg." 

"How have you survived this long?" Norm asked. 

"He feeds us," the man with no arms said. "He feeds us our own flesh "

From high above, a motor sputtered to life. The two men cowered and moaned. Gears ground against gears, and there was a clink-clink-clink of chains.

Norman felt a tug on his back, and then he was slowly being lifted off the floor, up to the top of the pit. It was his turn to face The Baseline Fisher. The two men left below sobbed in relief. They collapsed into sleep, as this was the only time they could truly rest without the fear of suddenly being lifted up to be tortured.

CLINK-CLINK-CLINK. The two men started awake at the sound of Norman being lowered back down into the pit. When he had landed in a crumpled heap, and the sounds of the machine had died away, the man with the missing arms asked "Hey, what happened up there?"

Norman lay slumped on the floor, but was moving. He mumbled something in reply.

"What was that lad?" Asked the man with no legs.

Norman sat up and turned to face their voices. 

His eyes and mouth had been sewn shut with fishing line. 

The two men gasped, horrified.

Norman reached up his hands and felt his lips. He mumbled something again. He ripped at the fishing line, hard enough that it sliced free through his own flesh.

Norm spat out blood, rubbed his mouth, and cleared his throat. "I said, I'm starting to think this guy is a real jerk."

THE END