The Lurking Season

by Kristopher Rufty

  She’s crying.

  The girl sniffled, lips quivering, and turned away from him. She headed to the door, stumbling a couple times before reaching it.

  Leaning her shoulder against the doorframe, she looked back at him.

  “I’m…sorry,” she said through sobs that came harder now. Closing her eyes, she walked out of the cellar.

  “Me too…” he told the unoccupied doorway.

  Speaking made Randy’s neck throb. He hissed at the pain and clutched the bleeding punctures tighter. He felt the warmth of his blood spilling over his fingers.

  Erin

  Four of them came to get her, each dressed in burlap rags. Even their faces were alike—pruned and hideous, pointed ears sticking through small holes in their cowls, salivating mouths filled with sharp teeth. Their hands were infant-sized, fingers tipped with claws.

  Speaking in squeaky grunts, they poked at her with their spears. The blades didn’t touch her, though they came close enough to feel the wind of their strikes. Erin understood if she didn’t get up she would be poked.

  “Where are you taking her?” asked Wendy from behind her.

  One on the end turned around. “To see the Stud.” Its voice was high in pitch, like an audiocassette running on high speed.

  Wendy sighed.

  Erin started to move. It was her first attempt since her painful examination. “What the hell is the stud?” she asked. She felt a lugging pain in her groin as she pushed herself to her knees.

  Nobody seemed willing to divulge any additional information, so she turned to Wendy. Pleaded with her eyes. “You have to help me,” she said.

  “Don’t,” said Wendy. “They’ll kill you if you even think about trying to escape.”

  Erin felt tears starting to come. Her chest started jerking as her throat tightened. Knowing she was about to sob pissed her off. She reached for Wendy, grabbing her ankle. “We can get out of here if you’ll just help me!”

  Wendy kicked Erin’s shoulder. Not real hard, just a stiff swing of her foot. Though the pain was mild, it shocked Erin as if she’d been punched. She raised a hand to her shoulder, rubbing the spot where she was hit.

  “You kicked me?” she asked.

  Wendy looked away, staring at the stalk-built wall. She shook her head. “Already told you to knock it off.”

  Before Erin could retort, her arm was gripped in multiple places and jerked. She scrambled to her feet, her legs nearly giving out, walking slightly bent over from how short the Haunchies were.

  Her skin burned where they held her. It was ruddy around the indentations their fingers made on her arm. Erin staggered along, keeping up as she was led outside and into the woods adjacent to Wendy’s shanty.

  The air seemed to lick the exposed gap of her buttocks with an arctic tongue. Clenching herself, she walked on stilted legs. It was nearly dark now, the sky blanketed in heavy purple clouds.

  They passed other shanties that had been crudely built from whatever the earth provided—twigs and sticks, cornstalks, mud and vines. Some of the doors were nothing but stripped tree bark.

  Erin noted bones scattered around the woods and brush, discarded like ignored litter. Mostly animal, but many were not. She saw a rib cage that looked very much human and the unmistakable death grin of a human skull jutting from the dirt.

  Ahead was a cluster of blackened trees that twisted into a gnarled doorway. She was led through the ominous entryway, into a small den enclosed by other scorched saplings. A small campfire inside a ring of stones burned in the middle of the dense space. Though it was minimal, Erin welcomed the heat.

  Old-fashioned manacles hung like dead snakes from the rugged fronts of the trees. She counted three empty sets. Rattling clinks came from behind her. Erin turned and found a Haunchy unfurling a length of restraints sprouting from a lower section of the tree. Ankle restraints. It brushed the dirt off its tarnished surface.

  Erin shook her head. “No…”

  The others ushered her toward the one waiting with the chain hanging across both of its arms. The little creature crouched at Erin’s feet, opened the cuff and placed it around Erin’s ankle. The metal was cold and hard against her skin.

  “Don’t…please…”

  Erin couldn’t believe the frightened adolescent voice was her own. She sounded pitiful and weak, not at all like the woman she’d grown to be.

  If the Haunchy heard her pathetic pleas, it gave no indication. The manacle was clicked into place around her ankle. Then it moved on to the next one.

  The ratchet-like snap of the other cuff was like a gunshot in the confined area. Erin flinched as she felt its cold bite around her ankle.

  “Back up and sit down.”

  Erin didn’t know who spoke the command. One of them had, and she couldn’t tell which. They all looked alike, sounded alike. Whimpering, Erin started moving backward, the words she wanted to say becoming garbled whines when they left her mouth.

  Reaching the tree, Erin turned and sank down to the ground. The flaky dirt tickled her buttocks as she scooted back. The Haunchy stepped between her legs and reached over Erin’s head. It brought another set of manacles down.

  The leather thong around her wrists was cut, freeing her hands so they could be lifted. She felt pain in her hand. Seeing the silky wrap on her hand reminded her of the injury. I was bitten. During the latest developments, she’d nearly forgotten.

  Erin started to sob. Random words of begging came out in sporadic babbles.

  Both her arms reached above her, pulling her shoulders up and pushing out her breasts. The cuffs clamped, digging into her wrists. The restraints pulled her back, stretching her stomach to a painful tightness.

  Erin started to cry. It was hopeless. Wendy wouldn’t help her, nobody else could even try. There was nothing she could do.

  From the hue of the fire, it looked as if she’d opened her eyes inside a river of gold. She wiped her eye on her bare shoulder, smearing her tears on her skin. The sweat mixed with the tears and burned her eye.

  She could no longer see the Haunchies. Had they left? Sure looked that way.

  Doesn’t feel like it.

  Someone was watching her. It was the same sensation she’d gotten at a nightclub she shouldn’t have gone to. Located in a bad area, the establishment had been filled with lowlifes. She’d gone there with a friend of hers who’d heard it was a great place to get some dick. There had been plenty to choose from since nothing but slimy creeps who had watched their every move were there.

  She felt that way now. Threatened by a licentious stare from hungry eyes she couldn’t see. “Who’s there?” she asked. Her voice fell flat in the air. It was as if she’d spoken from inside a box.

  She noticed a slithering gait creeping forward. She looked toward the shuffling movement. Oh God…what the hell…no…please no… When she saw what was coming, it felt as if a length of coldness uncoiled in her bowels. Her skin constricted against her bones.

  Erin went numb.

  A squat, stubby abomination waddled toward her. There didn’t seem to be a neck, just a tiny head bobbing atop a fat torso. It had puffy cheeks, little eyes, a flat nose, like a cherub on the front of a Valentine’s card from hell.

  Its pectorals sagged like inverted pizza slices with pepperoni nipples above the massive gut oozing over legs as thin as dowels. Its arms were unable to hang on their own and just rested against slants of doughy flab. Something wet glazed its skin, made it shine as if doused in some kind of oil.

  Erin heard its asthmatic breathing, the sloshing sounds its stomach made as whatever was inside struggled to digest.

  Can’t be real…can’t be…please don’t let it be real…

  The thing resembled something constructed by a child from crude materials and old clay. The grubby skin, body layered like soft-serve ice cream, reminded Erin of excrement dehydr
ated by the sun. Smelled like it too. The rancid odor brought another batch of tears to her eyes, burning a vaporous path through her nose and down her throat.

  Closer now, Erin noticed something clutched in its nubby hand. Something that drooped down, dragging through the dirt beside it.

  A hose?

  Looked like one, flaccid and limp as it raked a line in the dirt.

  Erin watched the grotesque miniature walk between her feet. She tried to close her legs, but the shackles kept them spread.

  The hose was hardening.

  No longer a limp serpentine accessory, it was quickly stiffening into a tube. His stroking hand made it stretch even more.

  “Oh…fuck…no…”

  The capped head of the shaft had a horizontal slit in the front that oozed a transparent fluid. It dripped from the tip in phlegmy droplets.

  The Stud.

  She realized it wasn’t the creature but his mighty cock that had won him that moniker. The colossal penis was nearly as big as the creature gripping it. Now he needed both hands to hold it up. The twisted features of its hideous face appeared conflicted between both pleasure and discomfort.

  Erin shook her head, flinging her hair all over. She begged it to stay away.

  It kept coming closer, its goofy grin stretching around a gapped set of rotting sharp teeth. Drool lowered from the corners of its mouth in foamy strings.

  The creature sank to its knees, keeping eye contact while it slowly moved its head from side to side, dripping the drool on its pillar-like member. Fat veins jutted from the shaft like roots.

  It used its hands to rub the clear lubricant up and down the shaft.

  Erin’s begs turned to frenzied shrieks. She knew what was coming next. From the size of its penis, she couldn’t begin to calculate the amount of pain she was about to experience.

  It would be bad…so bad.

  She watched the penis column inch closer to her sex, felt herself closing up between her legs as if the folds of her flesh were a shield guarding her. It might delay him a bit, but other than being a mild nuisance, he would get through.

  Another hand shot down, grabbing the cock below the inflated head.

  Erin was confused by the sudden new addition. A third hand, much larger than the original two, now caressed the shaft. Her eyes jerked up to the creature’s face, seeing its own eyes grow in surprise and something else.

  Fear?

  Wendy’s head appeared over a blubbery shoulder. It noticed her and was opening its mouth to yell when Wendy’s other hand slapped over its lips. The sounds it made were muffled and huffy against her palm.

  On her knees behind the fat Haunchy, Wendy’s hand that clutched the erection wrenched viciously to the side, snapping the penis like a giant green bean. Blood exploded from the spout of the broken penis, splashing Erin in slimy red. The liquid was warm when it hit her skin but quickly chilled as it sluiced down her body.

  The creature juddered in Wendy’s grip, breath sputtering through its nose. Blood continued to spurt from its broken penis. The upper half still hung on by a stretched sheet of skin.

  More blood spattered Erin’s breasts, streaming down the valley between them. Some shot into her eyes, coating them in runny thickness, blinding her. She couldn’t see through the dark-red film, nor could she do anything to wipe it clear. Trying to use her shoulder, all she did was rub it in even more.

  The broken snorts of the creature’s breaths came farther apart. One more long, suffocated gasp and then there was nothing but the hollow drips of blood.

  Heather

  Heather stared at the woman as the emergency flashers blinked yellow across the trees. In the snaps of light, she saw the woman sitting in the passenger seat, bent forward and hugging herself.

  The only normal part of her story had been her name, which was Brooke.

  The poor girl was shivering as if strong hands shook her. And though the heat in the car was cranked to full blast, her skin still held a slight blue tint. Heather was starting to sweat under her arms, tickling her sides as it slid down. Chad had offered Brooke his coat, but she wouldn’t take it since he was going to be outside trying to arrange a way of freeing the tires from the trench they were stuck in. Turned out he had an emergency box in the trunk, and cat litter was one if its contents.

  She had little hope it’d work. Nothing against his idea or abilities, but the tires were really wedged. She worried the only way they’d be able to get out of here was by somebody pulling them out.

  And if what Brooke had said was true, they needed to get out of here as soon as possible.

  I should be out there helping him.

  But she didn’t want to leave the girl alone.

  Some rustling sounds came from outside. Sounded like something brittle being poured onto the snow. Brooke jumped at the mild noise, whipping her head around to see where it was coming from. “What’s that?” she called.

  “Calm down,” said Heather. “It’s just Chad. He’s trying to get the car out of the ditch.”

  Brooke looked as if she wasn’t sure whether or not to believe Heather. After a few moments, she relaxed some and settled back into the seat. “We should help him,” said Brooke.

  “You’re right. I’ll go. You stay in here.”

  “I don’t want to be alone!”

  “But your clothes…” Heather wished they had something Brooke could wear. At least some socks or something. Why couldn’t Chad have had some extra clothes in his emergency box?

  “Your feet don’t need to be on the snow any more,” Heather added.

  Brooke felt around the door, her fingers patting the paneling. They gripped the handle and pulled it open.

  “Wait,” said Heather, but Brooke was already on her way out.

  She shut the door.

  Heather groaned at Brooke’s stubbornness.

  She just wants to get out of here.

  So did Heather, for that matter. But going out there without shoes was stupid. Sighing, Heather adjusted her coat and opened the door. Cold flowed into the car, stealing the comforting heat. Putting one leg outside, it was quickly dotted in snow.

  She climbed out, closing the door behind her. It was freezing out here. Her thick coat did little to warm her.

  How can Brooke stand it?

  “What are you doing out here?”

  Chad’s voice came from the back of the car. As she turned, his head poked up from behind the trunk. Seeing how the snow was clinging to his hair like a white hairnet nearly made her laugh. When she saw Brooke hobbling toward the back of the car, hissing as her feet touched the snow, the humor died.

  To lighten the situation, Heather said, “You look like Jack Nicholson in The Shining. You should be running through a hedge maze.”

  “We’re all going to be like him at the end of the movie before too long. You really should get back in the car.”

  “We’d rather be out here with you,” said Brooke.

  That seemed to end the dispute.

  Heather stepped down into the ditch. She felt her foot slide and threw her arms out to balance herself.

  “See what I mean?” said Chad.

  Heather’s heart was pounding. That was close. If she would have fallen, her head would have most likely banged against the side of the car. She could do without a head injury, with no means of getting to a hospital. Much more carefully, she brought her other foot down. Then she stepped around the back of the car where Chad was.

  She saw a swath of cat litter dumped around the back tires. There was a mound at the rear of each and a short path leading up the trench from the front of them. She could tell what he was going for and began to think they might have a shot after all. If the tires could find purchase on the litter tracks, they should be able to drive out.

  “Not a bad idea,” Brooke said, a shiver in her voice.
Her teeth chattered when she talked.

  “See, you’re cold,” said Chad. “Head back to the car.”

  “Nope.”

  Chad and Heather shared the same slightly annoyed yet indulgent look. Heather assumed Chad felt the same as she did about Brooke’s stubbornness.

  Heather walked around and stood beside him, leaving Brooke at the top of the incline. The smell of exhaust was heavier back here. Chad’s clothes were probably caked in it.

  “Ready to give it a try?” he asked.

  “Sure,” she said. “Is it ready?”

  “As ready as I’m going to get it.” He looked down at the work he’d done. His frown showed his lack of confidence. “Think you can handle the car?”

  Heather’s eyes widened. “Me?”

  “Yep.”

  “You trust me to drive it?”

  “Can’t do any worse than I did.”

  Heather smiled. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

  “You’ll do fine. Just give it a little gas, when you feel the tires find traction, give it a little more. Just don’t gun it.”

  “You must be sweet on me, letting me drive your car like that.”

  “Nobody but me ever has.”

  Heather felt herself blush. Even in their situation, she couldn’t help the dreamy feeling it gave her. It made her feel special. And she didn’t care what he thought about the goofy face she was probably making, either.

  He asked me to do it to show how much I matter.

  Funny. Something as simple as him offering to let her drive his car made all the difference.

  “Okay,” she said. “You asked for it.”

  “Don’t talk me out of it.”

  “Nope. You already said and a verbal agreement is just as binding.” She turned to Brooke. “Hop in, we’re going for it.”

  Brooke acted as if she hadn’t heard her. She had an ear perked up, listening.

  “Shhh,” said Brooke.

  Faintly in the distance, Heather could hear the rumble of a looming engine. Brooke must have noticed it too. Baring her teeth, she stood rigidly with her arms at her sides. “It’s him!”