by Ryan Horvath
As he was removing his hand, Ian caught it on some of the broken glass. It drew a shallow two inch gash on the back of his hand. “Ow. Fuck!” he exclaimed, pulling his hand to himself and grabbing his wrist.
“You’re bleeding,” Simon said. “Let me take a look.”
“It’s alright,” Ian said. “I’ll be fine.” He wiped the blood on his pants and presented his hand. “I know you’ve all been itching to see this. Damn! Stings like a son-of-a-bitch!”
Brian quickly scooped River up so she could watch and the four men all stared down at Ian’s hand. The cut was quickly filling in with blood again so Ian hurriedly wiped it on his pants again. When he showed it again, they all watched in awe as the wound closed itself and left no trace of a scar.
“Astonishing!” Simon gasped.
“Un-fucking-believable, right? Ian said, smiling proudly. “Still hurts though,” he added, shaking his hand. “Shall we see the inside?”
Ian turned the knob and swung the door in. He stepped in and the others followed. They were in the kitchen, which was spacious and bright. The refrigerator and stove stood next to each other and there was a large window above the sink. They spread out from there, checking the place out and ten minutes later, they all met back in the kitchen.
“Looks good,” Jack said. “I’m going back outside. You guys want to unload some stuff? Don’t do everything. Just what we need for a few days.”
Ian and Brian nodded and went out the back door.
“I want to check out the eclipse,” Simon said, checking his watch. “I guess I’ve got some time though. I’ll clean up this glass and join you outside in a little bit.”
“Can I come out with you, Jack?” River meowed.
“Sure. C’mon,” he answered.
Jack crossed the kitchen and living room, unlocked the front door, opened it, and stepped outside into the cool air with River padding along right next to him. They stepped down the front steps, there was no porch, and walked into the lawn. Jack led them to the paddock. He stopped at the fence and rested one foot on a low rail and his elbows on a higher one.
River jumped on to the rail that had Jack’s elbows on it. “This is a nice place, Jack,” she mewed. “Not as nice as your place but still nice.”
“Yeah. It is, isn’t it?” He scratched her between the ears and she purred.
“Will we be here long?” River meowed.
“No, I don’t think we will,” Jack responded.
“That’s what I thought too,” River meowed.
Jack looked up at the sky. The moon was out and approaching the sun. “Look at that,” he said. He pointed up.
River turned her gaze skyward. “Is that the eclipse?” she meowed in question.
“Not yet,” Jack replied. “But soon.” He checked his watch. “Half an hour or so and it’ll look like dusk.” Jack turned and pulled the Mossberg off his shoulder. He leaned it against the fence and watched his two best friends as they lugged items from their makeshift convoy and carried them into the house. He walked over to a small apple tree that was nearly done giving fruit for the season. River had alit from the fence and followed him. She sat close by with her tail wrapped around her and its tip rested on her forepaws. As Jack stared at nothing in particular, he smiled. He didn’t know it but this moment of his life had been seen earlier in the week by someone he didn’t know but with whom he shared a strong connection.
57
AMANDA, KAREN, AND BLAZE & ART
“Hurry, Master Karen,” Blaze barked insistently. “The car is coming quickly.”
“It took you guys long enough,” Amanda croaked.
“I was following the visions,” Karen snapped.
“What!?” Amanda spat.
Karen set down the tire iron and hurriedly began looking around for something to remove the handcuffs that were attached to her sister’s wrists and ankles. The handcuffs themselves were affixed to heavy chains. She discovered a workbench full of nasty looking implements: knives, spikes, blades and tools.
“Are you okay?” Karen asked Amanda.
“Just fucking peachy,” Amanda spat back.
“Has he…?” Karen said quietly, still searching.
“No. Nothing yet, aside from the hits he gave me when he grabbed me. And some pinching and fondling. But he intends to. He told me. He showed me his thing! Jesus, how long have I been here?” Amanda said.
“It’s Friday. You’ve been gone for almost three days,” Karen replied.
“It feels like it’s been a week. He kept talking about some other thing he had to finish up before he could… start on me,” Amanda said. “The things he said he was going to do to me. And his… thing, Jesus Karen, I’ve never seen one that big outside of a porno movie. Hurry. Please!”
Blaze cocked his head and listened intently. “Yes, he’s going to see our car soon,” he barked.
Art pulled into the town of Orono feeling great. He turned his car onto Homestead Trail with a smile on his face.
He’d swap out the bitch woman’s IV bag and talk her up some more; maybe even masturbate over her and ejaculate on her face and tits. Then he’d make the short trip to where Shepherd had relocated and stake out the place. Art knew from the real estate listing that the property was large and he had in fact driven past it before on more than one occasion. He knew the house was located on the land in such a way that he could infiltrate the house and pick off Shepherd and his friends without anyone outside having a clue.
Art knew they were armed and didn’t know to what extent but he was a trained assassin, a skilled kidnapper, and a lethal killer. He was stronger, smarter, faster, and bigger than just about anyone on the planet now. Between his guns and his hands, his prey would quickly fall and their corpses would be found when some unsuspecting real estate agent came to show the house to some prospective couple.
When he was finished with the men, he would finally return to the bitch woman. He intended to shorten the chains that held the handcuffs around her ankles, effectively spreading her legs and giving him access to her most private parts. Art would cut off her pants and then her panties. He would lightly scrape her with the blade while he did the panties, just enough to break the skin and make her feel the sting. He would perform oral sex on her, with sharp nips to make her yelp, until she was sufficiently lubricated. Then he would brandish his engorged erection for her to behold before plunging it deep inside her and she would scream at the force of his initial thrust. Art would vigorously plunge as deep as he possibly could into the bitch woman and she would cry and wail and scream and her screams would only fuel his energy and he would sink even farther into her. When he was ready, Art would fill the bitch woman with his seed and she would suffer horribly because of this depravity. After he exited her, he would spit on her face and breasts adding more of his DNA to her body. Then he figured she should lose a pinky. Hell, he’d even let her choose which one she got to keep. When the finger was cut off, Art intended to use a sharp hunting knife so it would be painful, he would cauterize the stump so she wouldn’t bleed too much and pass out. Art sincerely hoped the bitch woman wouldn’t pass out during any of this. He wanted to see the agony and fear in her eyes and to remind her he was just getting started and that she could expect her next session in a few hours.
He couldn’t wait.
Outside of his fantasy, Art looked down at his groin and shifted in his driver’s seat. His erection strained against his clothing and the lower strap of his seat belt. He suddenly realized, because of his daydreaming, that he’d missed the turn for the driveway to the abandoned farm house and chuckled to himself. He slowed and pulled the car in a U-turn. When he came upon the driveway he needed, he turned into it. He drove down the driveway at a steady pace.
Art was relaxed. He thought he had all the time in the world. He hummed along with the radio.
As he pulled up to the central area of the land where all the buildings were, Art found something that instantly caused his happiness and his ere
ction to deflate.
There was a car here that didn’t belong.
Art stopped behind the car, mostly blocking it, making it difficult for the vehicle to get past his car. He put his car in park, shut off the ignition and stepped out. His smile was gone. A look of rage had replaced it.
“Master Karen, the bad smelling man is here! He’s out of his car!” Blaze barked sharply.
Karen was still searching for anything she could use to cut or break the handcuffs without hurting her sister. Panic had joined her adrenaline and her vision was almost clouded by it. “Have you seen a hacksaw or something? Maybe a key?”
“No, I was chained when I woke up. I never saw him bring me in here. Where is ‘here’ anyway?” Amanda asked.
“Shush! We’ll get to that,” Karen snapped. She spied a small cube shaped set of three drawers. She opened the top drawer and found it full of rusty razor blades. Some of the blades were caked with what Karen guessed was dried blood. She quickly closed the drawer.
“He’s at the front door now,” Blaze woofed quietly.
“Damn it, hurry up!” Amanda said in a sharp whisper.
Karen opened the middle drawer and found it filled with small bones. She didn’t know what kind of species they were from and she didn’t want to. She quickly shut that drawer and opened the third. Could it really be that easy? She asked herself when she discovered what was in this drawer.
Two small keys were there on a ring. Karen snatched them and raced over to Amanda.
“I found keys!” she whispered excitedly.
“Great,” was all Amanda could say. She was covered in sweat in spite of the cool temperature in the basement.
Karen was shaking and it took her a few seconds to get one of the keys into the lock on Amanda’s right wrist. She turned the key and nothing happened. She could hear floorboards creaking overhead.
“Try the other key,” Amanda said.
Karen quickly changed keys and turned it. The cuff released.
“Thank God,” Amanda gasped.
Karen moved to the other wrist and unfastened the cuff.
Blaze stood watching toward the staircase. His tail was still and his ears were cocked. “He’s at the top of the stairs,” he chuffed.
Karen dashed to Amanda’s feet and deduced the other key probably opened the ankle set. She found herself to be correct and Amanda was shakily on her feet.
“Now what?” Amanda said.
Karen’s mind was racing. The bad smelling assassin was standing between them and the front door.
Then suddenly, they heard what sounded like the door at the top of the stairs being ripped from its frame and a voice growled down at them.
“Fucking bitches! Here I come!” it said with malice.
Art stared in disbelief at the vehicle that was here and shouldn’t be. He recognized it and the license plate confirmed to him that the car belonged to Karen Thomas.
“Fucking shit,” he said. “How the fuck did that bitch find me?”
Art approached the car cautiously and established that no one was crouched down out of view inside. He felt the hood of the car and found it still quite warm, in spite of the chill in the air and deduced that Karen Thomas hadn’t been here long. He took a knife from his trunk and slashed the two rear tires of the woman’s car. He heard a dog bark coming from the direction of the house. Art had never heard a dog out here before.
As the last of the air fizzled out of the rear tires of the intruder’s car, Art eyed the house. Does she have a gun? He asked himself. Is she watching me? His surprise mixed with excitement when he realized he’d read Karen Thomas knew nothing about guns. Her idiot husband had even been anti guns. Art doubted she had a gun and so what if she did? She couldn’t be any good with it. He didn’t know about the bitch woman, Amanda, though. Could they even get her out of her cuffs? Art knew the keys were in the basement but it could take someone a while to find them and Thomas couldn’t possibly have been here long enough to do so. After a moment, he decided he would take the risk because it was pretty small. And when he had Karen Thomas in his possession, Art imagined what he could do. Initially, when he had first read up on her, he had wanted to just kill her little-miss-snooty-party-planning ass outright. But the new prospect of having the two sisters together and forcing them each to watch him humiliate and torture the other gave him electric chills.
He strode confidently up to the front door which was slightly ajar. Art noticed the damaged wood of the frame. Thomas had bypassed his new door altogether and just taken advantage of the rotting wood. Art decided she had probably used the chiseled end of her tire iron to do the job. Disgusted, he pushed the door inward. There was the dog bark again, muffled but audible.
He walked to his right until he found the padlock for the basement door lying on the dusty floor. Art eyed the door and the bent lock. He heard a dog again and was sure it came from the basement. Then he heard muted voices.
With rage and his enhanced strength he grabbed the basement door and tore it from its frame. He threw the door against the rotten kitchen cabinets and it landed with a loud crash.
“Fucking bitches! Here I come!” he roared. Thoughts of Shepherd and his sanctioned mission were far from his mind.
He let that sink in for no more than a minute. He had the bitches trapped. Even if Thomas tried some of his own tools on him, none of which would inflict any significant damage to him, she would have to get close and when that happened Art would grab her and he would not let go until she was unconscious and ready for a set of shackles of her own.
He descended the stairs and when he got to the bottom to his surprise, he found the bitch woman, Amanda, was on her feet. Her breasts were still bare and pointed at him. And sure enough, they had a dog with them. A spotted Dalmatian with one green eye and one blue. Don’t I know that dog?
“We haven’t even started to play yet,” he said icily to the two women. They stared back at him in terror, frozen to their spots. Art used his foot and smashed the bottom two stairs in order to make it difficult for anyone to escape that way.
The dog barked quickly three times and then Art noticed understanding on Thomas’s face and she pushed her sister and shouted, “Go. That way. Run. Now!” And the women were on the move with the dog quick at their heels.
Art rolled his eyes and smirked in disbelief. Then he was after them.
“What’s he waiting for?” Amanda asked in a barely heard whisper. She yanked the IV line from her sore arm and pressed a palm to the opening. A small trail of blood escaped from beneath her hand.
“I don’t know,” Karen said. “Should we use some of his… weapons on that table?”
Amanda glanced at the workbench. “I don’t think anything there would do any good against him. The man’s huge. You’d practically need a cannon to bring him down. Maybe we should hide. Try to sneak past him.”
“We’d have to find somewhere big enough for all of us. Otherwise, if he finds one of us, he can use that for leverage against the others,” Karen posited.
The assassin started to descend the stairs and when he got to the bottom, he looked at them triumphantly. He was about thirty feet away. His gaze dropped to Amanda’s bare breasts and he licked his lips lasciviously.
Karen realized the shirt she had brought for her sister had fallen off her shoulder at some point in her searching and it was now likely to turn to dust in this dreadful place. She had failed to alter one of the visions.
“We haven’t even started to play yet,” the green eyed blonde man said with a maddening grin.
Amanda did not like the way the green eyed mad had said “started” and as she remembered him parading around the room with his manhood on display talking about how he would continuously be raping her, chills ran throughout her body.
Just as Amanda was experiencing the chills, the green eyed man destroyed the bottom two stairs with an unbelievably powerful smash of his foot. Both women and the dog flinched at this display.
Blaze
suddenly recalled something they had seen when they arrived and he barked, “Master Karen, that hatch thing in the ground. What about that?”
It took Karen less than two seconds to understand that Blaze meant the cellar door that led to the outside. She quickly tried to associate where it was and when she had it she pushed Amanda and ordered, “Go. That way. Run. Now!”
Amanda did not need to be told twice and she bolted in the direction Karen had indicated. Her heart raced and her dry tongue throbbed in her mouth.
Karen took over the lead and looked down to make sure Blaze was with them. He was. They found the cellar door and Karen ascended the few steps and pushed on one of its doors. It moved a little but did not open. Then Amanda was with her on the steps.
“Shit,” Karen spat. “I forgot. It’s locked.” She could hear the killer’s footsteps as he pursued them in the dark. He may know the place but he hadn’t known where they had gone when they ventured into the darkness. Then she remembered how rotten the piece of two by four had been when she had seen it earlier. “Help me,” she instructed.
Karen and Amanda pressed together on the door and in seconds, they heard the board on the other side snap and the doors opened and they exited into bright sunshine that stung their eyes. Karen looked at Amanda and saw the wooden cellar door had abraded her sister’s skin in several places.
Karen glanced at her watch. 1:35. She had been in that basement all of fifteen minutes and she never wanted to go back.
