Because first…
His eyes cut over to Fuckhead. The asshole was right where he had left him, lying on his side, hands bound behind his back and his feet knotted together with the other end of the length of rope he always kept on hand for this purpose. The skinny fuck’s eyes were open, but they were dulled and glazed. His unblinking stare seemed focused on nothing at all.
The killer eyed him with scorn, his rage building. He had told the guy to watch, to see how a real man fucked a bitch, but he knew the asshole hadn’t seen a thing.
“Well, Fuckhead, you missed a real show,” the killer hissed between clenched teeth. “Better than any porno you ever saw, if you’re man enough for even that.”
The bound figure made no reply. The asshole had yet to say a word or to make a sound. Even when I ripped the bitch’s thongs off and she screamed her head off when I first put it to her…all you did was lay there and sweat and stink like a pig. Well, that’s about to change, you damned gutless fuck.
The killer stepped slowly to where the prone figure lay. The guy didn’t resist or even blink as the killer roughly yanked down his pants and underwear.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” the killer observed in mock surprise. “You’ve got a dick and a pair of balls after all. Who the fuck would’ve thought it?”
For the first time since his ordeal began, the young man the woman had called Duane gave voice to all that had rendered him as silent as a mute.
His long and loud scream of pain ripped through the night as his killer’s knife separated his penis and testicles from the rest of his body in three sawing swipes.
The killer stood up straight, the now dickless asshole flopping at his feet like a fish out of water. The killer flung the severed appendages at the dead woman. Then he laughed quietly and said, “Too bad you can’t suck on it now. Should’ve made you do that before I fucked you.”
It never occurred him to have her do that beforehand. Then again, he had always been the only man around when he brought one of the whores here.
Something to think about in the future…
Chapter Twelve
An hour had slipped away and they were still waiting, not one vehicle having passed.
Nor had they found any sign of the old woman. Jeff was more mystified now than he was before. The old woman had been standing right in front of the car—right on the center line—when he looked back at the road! At most, he figured he had missed hitting her by mere inches. And yet, there was no sign that she had been there at all. Not even a path where she had fled through the grass.
Jeff had no idea what the hell had become of her.
Some really weird shit.
Having removed her shoes, Angela had curled up in the passenger seat with her legs tucked under her. Jeff could tell by the sound of her breathing that she had dozed off. He remained behind the wheel, quiet and still; watching and waiting. After a while he breathed a long, impatient sigh.
This is getting us nowhere. Goddamn it to hell.
He shook Angela gently. She raised her head with a sleepy groan.
“Has someone stopped?” she yawned.
“Afraid not, Angie, and it’s getting late. I think the later it gets, the less chance of someone coming by. Even if someone does, they might not stop. Damn it, so close to home, and yet so far away. We can’t keep the engine running like this all night and we could end up spending the night here, and that I’m not anxious to do. No, I think we have to come up with something else.”
“Like what?”
Jeff cut his eyes to the right. “Highway 365 is about ten, more like eleven miles that way.” His eyes shifted left. “If I remember right, there’s a couple of houses two or three miles this way. I don’t know if anyone still lives in them or if the houses are still there, but all I can see to do is for us to start walking and find out.”
“I don’t think I can walk that far,” Angela said. “Not in these shoes, anyway.”
“Well, I’m sure as hell not going to leave you here. I’d rather spend the night here than do that. You don’t have a pair of other shoes in the back floorboard or the trunk? Some flip-flops or something?”
“No,” Angela said. “Cleaned all of that out of here one day when I had nothing else to do and I was bored. I don’t think another pair of shoes would make a difference, anyway. I’m still feeling woozy.”
“I could try and drive on the rim,” Jeff mused.
“That will ruin the rim,” Angel pointed out.
“Yeah, it will and I thought I was never going to find the rim I had the spare put on, so I could get rid of that damn donut. What I’d give to have that damn thing back right now. I swear, the first thing I do, as soon as I can get to a store, is buy two or three cans of inflator to keep in the trunk. Well, I guess we stay here and wait.”
“No, you go ahead, and I’ll stay and wait.”
“The hell you will.”
“Jeff, you can make better time without me hobbling along barefoot, trying to keep up. I don’t want to spend the night out here, either. What I want is a shower and my own bed, curled up to you. This might be the only chance we have to get out of here any time soon, so you go ahead and get started. Don’t worry about me, darling, I’ll be fine.”
Jeff thought about it for a long time; the more he did, the more he wished Angela would just slap the hell out of him for being a fool and have done with it. She was right, though, and he knew it. He could cover a greater distance faster by himself. When he went looking for the old woman the second time, Angela had trouble keeping up. She had stumbled more than once, the first time right after she had pulled off her heels and would have fallen down a couple of times if he had not been there to catch her. If she was still feeling the wine, and she obviously was, there was no way she could walk two or three miles. And, most likely, further than that if they didn’t find an occupied house or someone didn’t stop and pick them up. Adding to the problem was that she didn’t have her glasses; after dark, she could barely see a thing without them. Jeff didn’t like the idea of her trying to keep up, not wanting to slow him down, and falling down and hurting herself. No more than he liked the idea of leaving her behind. He didn’t like the thought of that at all. Not one goddamn bit. The trouble was that he couldn’t think of anything else to do.
If only I hadn’t pushed for this night out or if I had taken the time and a few dollars and got that damn spare fixed, we wouldn’t be in this mess right now.
That thought and her insistence convinced him that he had no other choice. He had to at least try. They were in this spot because of him, so he had to get them out of it. He turned in his seat, as much as he could manage with the steering wheel in his way, and reached for Angela. He cupped her face in his hands.
“You stay in here and keep these doors locked and the windows up, and you don’t get out for anyone unless it’s a cop.”
“I know that, darling,” she said softly, indulgently.
“Sorry, Angie, I’m not trying to talk down to you. I know you’re smart enough to know what to do, but just listen to me, okay?”
Her head moved in a nod in his hands.
“If someone comes along, ask them to drive on until they find me. Keep an eye on the heat gauge, too. If the engine starts to overheat, shut it off but leave all the lights on. Let it cool off a few minutes, then crank it up again, so the battery doesn’t go dead. When I’m sure I’ve gone far enough to have made it to one of those houses and I haven’t found anyone to help or a vehicle hasn’t found me, I’m coming back. One way or the other, I’ll be back here for you as fast as I can.”
“I’ll be right here,” Angela promised. “Do you want my phone?”
Jeff thought about that and shook his head. “I doubt I’ll be out of this dead zone when I get to those houses, or by the time I turn around and come back here, if it comes to that. No, you keep it.” He kissed Angela, then again. “Love you, Angie.”
“Love you, too. Be careful.”
Jef
f got out of the car, flashlight in hand, and started walking. He didn’t turn on the flashlight until he was just out of the spill of the car’s headlights and he couldn’t see the road clearly. Once he switched it on, he turned around and waved the light at the Mazda. After a second the car’s headlights dimmed, then went bright again.
He hesitated before walking on, staring at the headlights and the winking amber flashers, a feeling heavy in his chest that he was making a mistake. Yet another among the several that he already made. But the feeling in his chest was different; it seemed to be more than an inkling. It was like something was warning him, or trying to. What the hell was it? Was it because it was the middle of the night and he was leaving her all alone? Both of those seemed reason enough, but there was more to it than that, and he knew it. He just didn’t know what or why.
But what else could he do? And if he stood there much longer where she could see him (he was sure she could, as he wasn’t that far away and she had flashed the headlights at him), Angela would know he was having doubts. She wouldn’t exactly be pleased with him about it, either. So far tonight she had tolerated his built-in male reservations; any other time she wouldn’t have stood for it. She was a woman, yes, and loved it when treated as such. Yet she hated it when treated as some weak and mindless female, of which she was anything but. It was only one of the many reasons why he loved her so much. So he sucked it up and started walking again.
He kept a close eye on the road ahead of him, every so often glancing back over his shoulder for any sign of approaching headlights. Except for the glow and blink of lights from the Mazda, now growing fainter by the second, and the flashlight in his hand, only the dark of the night met his eyes. The feeling in his chest grew heavier and heavier with each step he took. Trepidation gripped him with an icy fist, and he still didn’t know why. He had never felt anything like this before.
About five or six minutes after leaving the car, he broke into a jog. Jeff didn’t know how long he could keep up that pace, but he would stay with it as long as he could. He had lost the Mazda’s lights a good ways back when the road curved and he passed a stand of trees. He figured he had covered a mile by that time, maybe a little more. It wasn’t a hot night, but it was warm and there wasn’t a breath of wind stirring. The air he generated as he jogged felt good, cooling his lightly sweating face. Except for the road and the center line visible in the circle from his flashlight, there was nothing to see in any direction. No moon or stars shone above him; the darkness complete.
A little over three-hundred yards into his jog he had to slow down to a walk again. Another twenty to thirty feet and he had to stop altogether. He was drawing in a huge breaths, his hands on his knees, when he thought he heard something.
It sounded like a single, quick tap of a car horn. It was so faint and seemed to come from so far away that he wasn’t sure he had actually heard the sound or not. It didn’t help that he was breathing so hard, a rushing sound filling his ears. Holding his breath, he cocked his head to one side and listened. In the ten seconds or so before his need for air forced him to breathe again with a loud exhalation, he didn’t hear the sound again.
Beyond the drumming of his heart, he heard nothing at all.
Nothing. Probably the yip of a coyote somewhere out there in the dark. God, the sweat is pouring out of me and I can barely breathe at all.
His lack of wind wasn’t entirely because of the distance he had jogged, and he knew it. It was due mostly to the heavy feeling in his chest. It was now like a physical pain. It had grown from a simple feeling of unease into something fierce with long and needle sharp teeth. I’ve got to go back. There’s got to be another way out of this. If I have to, I’ll drive the car on the flat and to hell with the rim. If I can’t do anything else, I’ll carry her every step of the way home. I should’ve done that to begin with.
Once he felt he had enough breath to manage it, he turned around, took a single step, and stopped in his tracks, a curse of pure surprise bursting from his mouth. For in the beam of his flashlight, only a few feet away from him, stood the old woman he had nearly run over earlier.
It was the same woman, no doubt about it. The same long dress and sweater—and the sweater was red—and neither looked like they had ever seen the inside of a washing machine. Gray streaked her stringy and tangled hair; dirt caked her face like bruises. She stood with her arms at her sides, but her eyes were ablaze with urgency and fixed on him like daggers.
“Where the hell did you come from?” Jeff demanded breathlessly.
The old woman raised one hand and pointed behind her. When she spoke, it was only one word and it came out in a croaking whisper.
“Hurry.”
Jeff frowned. “What do you mean hurry?”
“Hurry,” she repeated a little more forcefully, still pointing behind her.
“What the hell are you talking about? Who are you, anyway? What hell are you doing wandering around in the road in the middle of the night?”
“HURRY!” the old woman screeched, both hands clenched into trembling fists that she waved at him in a gesture of pleading. “Hurry back to her before it’s too late!”
Jeff’s throat went dry and his heart rate soared. “You mean—?” he began, but the old woman cut him off.
“YES! Didn’t you hear the horn? For the love of God, hurry back to her!”
Horn? Goddamn, that was a horn! Jeff needed no further prompting. Without another look at or word to the old woman, he broke into a flat out dead run.
He ran as never before, as if the devil himself was in hot pursuit and closing. It seemed like hours that his feet pounded the pavement, the crack of his boot heels like pistol shots. The beam of his flashlight bounced up and down crazily. There was a burn as hot as lava searing his lungs, but he ignored it. Ignored the pain shooting out like bursts of electricity from what seemed like every muscle in his body. He was almost dizzy from the massive adrenaline rush racing through him.
When he finally spied the glow of what he took to be the Mazda’s lights, he dug a little deeper; ran a little faster. And faster still when he saw the car itself. His heart hammering dangerously in his chest, he was at the point of passing out when he reached the car. He fell heavily against the front fender with a jarring thump. His flashlight fell from his hand, hit the ground and went out, and rolled under the car.
Why wasn’t the engine running?
“Angela?” He could barely hear his own voice.
Breathing as though through a collapsed straw and his head spinning, he pushed himself away from the fender and stumbled the three steps to the driver’s side door. His stomach churned from too much food and wine; he fought back the urge crawling up his throat to throw up. He pulled the door open, the dome light winking on.
“Ange—” he began and got no further.
Angela was gone. All that remained of her was the scent of her perfume.
Another hot surge from his stomach charged into the back of his throat. He could taste it this time and it made him gag. He swallowed it back again; the effort seemed to take his last measure of strength and energy. His legs suddenly gave way under him as if his knees had turned to dust. He collapsed onto the dirt road beside the car and rolled over on his back.
“Angela,” he croaked, desperately trying to breathe.
At this point he was almost delirious. From out of the swirling turmoil in his mind, one single thought fought to the forefront: he had to get up from there and look for Angela. But it was more than he could manage. He couldn’t breathe and there was a pain in his chest. A terrible—Oh, God! —horrible pain, his pulse like thunder in his ears. He couldn’t move, used up and worthless. He could feel his body shutting down on him, his mind doing the same thing.
All he could do was lay there and whisper her name.
Chapter Thirteen
Only seconds after Jeff collapsed, the woman in the long dress and red sweater appeared, materializing from out of the darkness, her form solidifying at h
is feet. There was a pensive and concerned light in her eyes as she gazed down at the man on the ground. He was a good man; she had seen it in him when he, and then with his woman, had searched for her thinking he had struck her with his car. Neither of them had seen her, but she was there, at times close enough to reach out and touch both of them. She had sensed the goodness in his heart, felt the love he had for his woman.
She had sensed and felt both in his woman…but something else, as well. The woman’s heart was dark with secrets. Secrets she had deliberately kept from her man and that she planned and hoped to keep from him as long as she could. She sensed there were two reasons for the woman’s silence: equal amounts of fear and shame.
But the man was…
…a good man. A very good man with a good heart and yet I feel that you fear something, as well. Something that haunts you day and night, and it’s every bit as strong as the fear I felt in your woman’s heart.
What is it you fear?
She had tried to warn him of the danger he was driving into but had managed only to scare him, causing him to lose control of his car, stranding both him and his woman in this God forsaken patch of wicked and vile darkness. A place where pure evil came and went at its leisure. It had been away for a long time, but it had returned, as it always did…and it was blacker than ever.
The blackest of black, a true minion of the devil.
She had tried to warn him again of the peril that he was unknowingly leaving his woman in when he walked away from the car. She had failed again because she couldn’t get through to him. He knew she was there, could feel her presence; she had sensed that. He simply didn’t know what it was, and she couldn’t make him understand. She had followed him, trying to reach him, finally deciding to reveal herself to him for the second time. But she had waited too long and she did it too suddenly. The essence of her former self and her well-meaning attempt and words had frightened him yet again and even more than he already was.
The Evil Returned Page 5
