Crossing the Line

by Bobe, Jordan

  They loaded Brute up with pain killers and antibiotics and he soon fell asleep in a curled ball next to Anna. Even the way in which he slept made him appear more canine than human. Neither of the women wanted to admit it out loud, but they were both quite sure that he was not going to survive.

  For a time Ivy and Tracy, too, fell asleep. Without the drugs in their systems they awoke immediately to the sound of the bitches coming into the house. Unsure if they could trust the breeders both girls went for shotguns they had collected from the armory. When the women came around the corner into the room they did so in a pattern that reflected the movement of coyotes. They skittishly looked for a place to hide amongst the furniture.

  Tracy lowered her gun. Had it not been for the women they would have never gotten Brute back to the house. It had taken all of their might to carry Anna with the night’s events finally setting in as fatigue in their muscles. The bitches had dragged Brute the distance and left him with the girls.

  Tracy had no way of telling how long she had been asleep other than the direction of the sunlight. She guessed it to be about noon, which would have given them four solid hours or so. She felt refreshed, but far from okay. She would never be the same person again and she knew it.

  Behind the dogs came a litter of small children. They ranged in sizes from toddler to teenager. Some of them obviously had belonged to the pack and had missed the final battle, while others were wearing formal clothing and looked terrified of their captors.

  These were obviously the children from the back house. There was no sign of the women said to have been left to protect them. Not until the last bitch stepped into the room and a woman followed her in. The woman looked scared, but she also didn’t seem to have been attacked.

  She was older than most of the bitches. Gray touched the top of her soft red crown. She had bruises all over her arms and face from past beatings.

  “I would have been a bitch if it wasn’t for Gene,” she said. “He took a liking to me five years ago and has kept me as his wife ever since. My name isn’t really Kendra, its Ellen, but he didn’t like that name so I got a new one.”

  “What are you doing here?” Ivy asked, raising the gun at Ellen’s head.

  “I’ve been trying to figure out a way to escape for five years, but I couldn’t just leave behind my babies,” Ellen sobbed. “So I stayed and I helped as much as I could. I tended to the wounds of the dogs and the bitches. I made sure that the babies did not smother to death when that cruel bitch had them buried. It wasn’t much, but it was how I kept grasp of who I was before I rented that godforsaken lake house.”

  Ivy moved her finger away from the gun’s trigger but left it leveled so that she could blow the woman’s head off if she decided that she needed to.

  “My husband and I were doctors, we owned a private firm in Oregon. We brought our children here so we could spend time with them. It seemed like we never had time at home. Our first night in the house we heard something outside. When I looked there was a huge man looking up at me. That man,” she pointed to Brute. “He was wearing the skull of a deer.”

  “He broke into the house and killed my husband, but when he saw me protecting my boys he let me and the children live.” At this one of the teenage dogs wandered over to her. She stroked his matted hair and pulled his head down on one of her shoulders.

  “I can help patch you guys up enough that you should survive,” Ellen said. “Deloris kept a full doctor’s office worth of supplies here. We were all prisoners to her psychosis.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Ivy said. “Help Brute first. We don’t know anything about stitches or any of that shit. We just tried to stop the bleeding.”

  Ellen nodded. “We will need him to survive if we’re going to,” she said. “Every pack needs an alpha.”

  46

  It took mere hours for Anna to recover enough to travel to a hospital. She and Ivy headed to the remaining ambulance to make their way out of the nightmare, with Tracy straggling behind. When they finally reached the garage Tracy knew she had made her final decision.

  “We will need a couple of days of recuperation before we move on. Please keep what happened to yourselves until we have time to get out of here,” she said.

  “What are you talking about?” Anna asked.

  “I can’t leave. I can’t go back to society and act like none of this ever happened. I became one of them last night. No amount of therapy or inpatient hospital stays is going to take that away from me. If I were ever mugged or even bumped into at a bar by a man I would beat him to death. I’m no longer fit for society.”

  “You can’t really expect us to just leave you up here to live with them like a dog, Tracy. You’re one of my best friends. You’re one of the few friends that I have left alive,” Ivy said.

  Tracy shook her head. “I’m not alive. Not the Tracy that you knew at least. She died last night. And when you do tell the police about what happened here you tell them that all of the dogs died as well as me. They saved our lives. They will need help finding someplace safe to stay.”

  Ivy realized she understood exactly how Tracy felt. She too wanted to stay with the pack. They had grown together like family overnight. Brute had become as significant a part of her life as her true family. If not for the dogs they would have died a hundred times. Still, she couldn’t imagine Tracy succumbing to the animal inside her.

  “We will come back for you,” Ivy said as she started the ambulance.

  “Don’t, I won’t be here anymore. We’ve got to get someplace safe.”

  “I love you, Tracy,” Anna sobbed.

  “I love you guys, too. We’re family and never forget that. Even though you’re not staying you’re both part of the pack, too.”

  Tracy turned away before anything else could be said. She pressed the button to open the garage’s bay doors and Ivy pulled out, purposely avoiding looking at Marcy’s corpse. It seemed like an instant later they were passing the lake house and all of their vehicles. She thought of suggesting that they stop and get some fresh clothes and their purses, but knew she could not go back into that house if her life depended on it.

  After navigating the narrow road for a while longer she stomped on the brakes. Anna was flung forward so fast that two of the stitches in her belly popped open. She groaned with agony. “Sorry,” Ivy said over to her.

  She looked past her friend at the gas station. The guy behind the counter must not have been able to see them through the tinted windows because he was waving and grinning. Ivy turned into the station and reached beneath the seat for her shotgun.

  “What are you doing?” Anna asked.

  “Keeping a promise I made yesterday,” Ivy replied.

  “Oh okay,” Anna said wistfully. She looked at the convenience storefront and smiled. “If they have those Reese’s minis will you pick me up some and a Diet Mountain Dew?”

  “Sure thing. You stay right here and I’ll be back.”

  As Ivy stepped out of the van she fully understood what Tracy had meant. She truly had become a dog overnight. Not only was she capable of killing, but she enjoyed it. She was going to enjoy every second of killing the man in the gas station.

  She pushed open the doors and the man reached under the counter. A single squeeze of the trigger sent the man back against the cigarette display behind him. Blood poured from the wound in his side. He fell to the ground with a groan of pain.

  Ivy walked over to the counter and aimed the gun down at his head. “Who were you waving at?”

  “Deloris made me do it. I never wanted to see you or your friends get hurt,” he sputtered between tears. “Look what you’ve done to my new shirt.”

  “Add it to my tab.”

  Ivy pulled the trigger again and watched as the man’s head exploded in a geyser of blood, hair and brain particles. She turned away, allowing the smoking barrel to aim toward the floor. She went to the candy display and soda cooler and got Anna’s requests.

  It was going to be a
whole new world when she got back to school and she knew it.

  EPILOGUE

  Dominic sat slumped over in the arm chair. The newspaper was held loosely in his grip and his mind was racing. He knew his nephew’s blood was on his hands and they would never come clean. He set the paper on the coffee table with the pile of others and sighed deeply.

  Luther came into the room with a solemn look on his face. The big man had been a part of the family for years, an honorary member because of his services. He was one of the best hit men in the country and the very best in the Midwest. To see emotion on his typically stoic face was a clear indication that the death hadn’t just affected Dominic.

  “How are you, sir?” Luther asked.

  “I just came from my youngest nephew’s funeral. How do you think I am, Luther?” Dominic said. He pulled a cigar from the age old box on the coffee table and fished the cutter out of the pocket of his suit. He hadn’t even had the willpower to change yet. He felt numb from head to toe. It was as if the world had stopped revolving the moment that he heard of Fitzgerald’s death and it had yet to begin moving again.

  “William has asked that you meet with him tonight. I assume that there will be some talk of retaliation for Fitzgerald’s murder. Should I tell him that you are available?”

  Dominic didn’t seem to notice that his loyal friend had spoken. He picked up the Zippo from beside the cigar box and lit his stogie. The thick smoke that wafted up from the tip smelled wonderful— completely intoxicating. He puffed off of the thick Cuban until the tip was a bright red cherry burning away at the hand rolled leaves.

  “I want you to personally oversee the investigation into Fritz’s death. I am sure that the police are doing an inadequate job. How else is that little fuck out of my grasp?”

  “We haven’t been able to find the location of Thaddeus yet, sir. I assure you that he will not survive this week.”

  “I don’t want him dead, not yet. I have a feeling that he has a story to tell. I want to know what happened to my nephew and I want everyone involved to be brought to me. I will kill them all with my own two hands. Do you understand me, Luther?”

  Luther nodded his head. His stoic expression had returned now. Any remorse that he felt for the loss of the boy that he had watched grow up was buried deep beneath the layers of the hit man’s callused soul.

  Dominic flicked ashes from the tip of the cigar and looked again at the newspapers strewn about on the table.

  “I am as interested in the girls as I am Thaddeus. Make sure that they are handled with care, though. I know Fritz’s reputation was not unfounded. He was a moron and a piece of shit rapist, we both know that. But if it was the girls that killed him they’re going to have to pay the price. Still, it is possible that they are innocent so I don’t want any of the fucking morons William has working for him touching them. Am I understood?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dominic nodded his head and took a deep draw off of the cigar. He allowed the smoke to come from either corner of his mouth while he sat staring off into space. He knew the only way he would ever get the world set back in order was to avenge his nephew. His hands still carried the sensation of the 24 karat gold rails from the side of the coffin. The sensation would not go away until he had washed them in the blood of the responsible parties. Another resolution came to him then.

  “Sir, will you be attending the meeting with William and the others tonight?”

  “No, I want you to go in my place. My brother is worthless and I don’t want to have to sit and listen to his sniffling the coke up into his head,” Dominic said.

  “I will be sure to pass on your sympathies.”

  “Thank you.”

  Luther turned to leave his boss to his grieving.

  “Luther, one more thing.”

  Luther turned back around and clasped his hands in front of him. “What is it?”

  “I will be going with you.”

  “But I thought you wanted them brought back here?”

  “I changed my mind. It’s been a long time since I’ve gone on vacation, a little hunting trip will do me some good. I want you to assemble the best you’ve got working for you. We’ll leave in the morning.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “If we can’t get the police to cooperate and tell us where Thaddeus is being held we’ll burn the entire fucking state of California. Make sure your men know to bring their best weapons and their balls. We’re not going to go half assed like my brother.”

  Luther nodded. “I’ll be sure to bring the meanest motherfuckers I have.”

  “Thank you. Will you have someone bring me a bottle of Scotch? And make sure Vinnie knows we’re flying out in the morning. Tell him not to smoke or drink anything tonight.”

  Luther nodded and turned to leave. As soon as the door closed behind the hit man Dominic allowed the tears to run freely from his eyes.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Though the novel you just read was fictional I drew many inspirations from legitimate sources. I will present them to you in the following note. I would also like to make mention that though some people would say that the graphicness of the descriptions of rape and death cross the line of art into torture porn. I, however, think that the descriptions were necessary as the point of the story was that through being raped, beaten and witnessing the brutal murders the women learned to accept the views of dogs.

  My idea when I began writing this story was simple; “I want to write something where the masked killer is portrayed as the hero.” I wrote the first draft with that in mind and it came out to be the novella I wanted. I was prepared to release it on the world when I saw a documentary about feral children. The documentary went on to say that feral children were nothing more than an urban legend. Though stories of children being raised by animals have been told worldwide since the beginning of civilization we as modern men cannot believe that animals would be so akin to us as to raise one of our lost children. Yet it is on a regular basis that we take in wild animals and raise them to behave in a civilized manner.

  While I did not write this novel to include actual feral children I completely believe that they could, and have, existed. The reason for the evolution of the story is that directly after this documentary I came across stories about children being raised as animals by their abusers. These stories disgusted me to no end. And so I thought to myself, what better way to personify a serial killer as a hero than to have him portrayed as a victim. Thus the genesis of the rewrite was born. And now the novella is a novel. Not a particularly long novel, but a novel none the less.

  Now, as promised, I am going to give you a brief history of children that were raised by malicious assholes to believe that they were animals. These stories are legitimate tales of horror that haven’t been given enough focus by our modern media.

  John and Sonja Kluth, both in their fifties, seemingly performed an act of kindness by adopting three children. However, when one of the children ran away from home and was found living beneath a retail store in a box he told authorities of the atrocities that had been performed by his adoptive parents.

  After investigation the police found that the children were fed dog and cat food and forced to sleep in dog crates. All of the children had been badly beaten over the years. The Kluth’s had moved from Wisconsin where they originally adopted the children to Oklahoma to avoid the authorities.

  The couple admitted to many acts of bizarre torture. And when asked one of their biological children said, “They’re going to get what they deserve.”

  John Eckhart and his girlfriend, Alayna Higdon, were arrested for keeping their four children in inhumane conditions. Two autistic boys were found in a room that had been converted into a cage, forced to live in diapers and being treated like animals. The police said that the boys had stuck their arms out through the bars imploring that the officers freed them. They also said that the babies were kept amongst filth.

  The sad thing about cases like these is that typicall
y the guilty parties don’t serve more than five years in prison. There are dozens more cases out there that you can research on your own. I read them and found myself utterly disgusted.

  A complete nonfiction account of a child being raised as a dog has been published by Basic Books. It is entitled “The Boy Who Was Raised as a Dog: And Other Stories from a Child Psychiatrist’s Notebook— What Traumatized Children Can Teach Us About Loss, Love and Healing” and was written by Dr. Bruce Perry. Though the title of the book is a bit pretentious and long winded it is a very insightful read.

  So there you have it. I tried at first to just write a brainless novella and instead was compelled to write something so brutal and tasteless that it only could have been inspired by actual events.

  No human being deserves to be treated the way the characters in my book were treated. Criminals that perform these acts of heinous cruelty need much harsher sentencing. If you damage someone so badly that they no longer act like human beings then you should be convicted of murder. The death of a soul is just as horrible as the death of a physical body.

  Those are my humble opinions. I’m sorry if my book disgusted any of you. It was not my intent to cause anyone discomfort any greater than any other horror novel would.

  Thank you for reading and I once again urge you to research feral children and children being raised like animals. The sheer amount of stories will terrify you worse than any novel.