by Tia Wilson
She squeezed her lips tight over his shaft as he fucked her mouth in slow rhythmic thrusts. He could feel the familiar pleasurable tingle in his balls as his passion rose.
His thrusts grew more insistent and she began to moan as he speed up. He pulled her in close to him as he came in her mouth. Her tongue moved back and forth across his shaft as he twitched and shot his load into her. She hungrily swallowed as he began to slow down.
He pulled out of her and let out a long contented sigh as she wiped her red and swollen lips.
“Fuck, that was amazing,” he said as he stretched out and lay back on the bed. She joined him on the bed and massaged his wet cock as it slowly softened. She pressed her body tight against him and breathed against his neck.
“What’s next?” she said, her warm breath against his neck.
“We leave here and never look back,” he said. He meant every word of it.”
“Whats your name?” she asked.
Normally he would have lied but he did not think it was necessary with her. “Darian Pickard, and you?” he said.
“I’m Emily Makins,” she said with a crooked smile.
She sat up and pulled something out from behind a pillow. His stomach lurched when he saw she was holding his leather bound notebook. She flipped it open to a page of ten names and each with a red line drawn through them. He should have panicked as this was the first person to ever see his list, but all he felt was calm. He knew she could see who he truly was and it excited him.
“Whats this?” she said playfully as she flicked through the pages. Her eyes glinted mischievously as she looked at him, he could feel that she already knew the answer before he even spoke.
“These are men who once hurt me. All are now dead,” he said, his voice not sounding as reedy and nasally as usual. Telling her seemed to strengthen him as he could see she was a captive audience. Her eyes where wide and she looked impressed.
She flicked to the last page of the book and asked “What about this one?”
Once again Darian felt like he was floating outside his body viewing himself as the great clockwork machine tightened and moved all the pieces into place. He could see what she was to him, this was destiny. There was no other reason that this would happen on this day, the list was speaking to him. Without hesitation he said, “Would you like to help me with the last name?”
Emily Makins, the girl in the white dress, looked into his eyes and said, “Ill help you cross off Blackjacks name.”
CHAPTER NINE
Sandstorm - Two Months Earlier
“This is how it ends,” Darian said running a finger across his neck and smiling broadly at Emily. He slid the notebook across the cracked Formica of the diner table towards Emily Makins. Against the faded red leather high back booth chair she glowed ethereally in Darian’s eyes. Her pale skin and white dress made her look like a fallen angel to him. He had not been able to take his eyes off her since they met. They were now bound in blood and chaos and the depth of their shared dark appetites was only beginning to become apparent to each of them. It was starting to seem like a sort of depraved competition as they each tried to out do each other with increasingly vicious acts. She could see him in his truest form and she wasn’t repulsed.
Emily trailed a thin finger along the spidery sketches in the notebook. She smiled as she traced a nail along the curves and swoops of the pencil marks. Her nails were bitten short and a dark loam was embedded under them. Darian looked at her expectantly as this was the first time he had ever shown another human his macabre drawings. These drawings contained an outpouring of his obsession to destroy Blackjack. The twisted and ornate spidery lines on the page sprang forth from the darkest recess of his mind. He would often go into a trance like state as his hand danced back and forth across the page, the grey lines whispering forth to the world how he would like to destroy Blackjack. Each drawing illustrated a different means of torture or destruction of flesh. Darian had often imagined showing his notebook to a stranger; he would derive a sick glee as their eyes opened wide in horror and disbelief at the hellish creations filling the pages. Emily showed no such disgust; her face was glowing with a manic glee. Her smile only broadened as she drew her finger across the hellish landscape rendered in intricate pencil sketches. He could see her nipples harden beneath the thin material of her wispy dress. In his darkest fantasies he could have never wished for a more kindred being to share his notebook and its twisted contents with.
Emily’s finger tapped on a drawing of a piece of wire strung between two poles. A man on a speeding motorbike had connected with the wire at high speed. In a blur of speed lines and darkly shaded areas the head spun off away from the body, cleanly cut off by the taut wire. She ran her fingers across the page as if she was absorbing every detail through her fingertips. Her mouth turned down slightly at the corners wrinkling her pale skin. Darian had seen this look before.
A few weeks ago they had stopped at a picnic spot looking over a wide plain of knee high grass. Emily lay on the wooden table and stared up at the birds swooping into clouds of black flies high above her. Darian leaned against his bike watching the road. He let his mind wander as he thought about the shape his life would take once he killed Blackjack. He imagined the feeling of power and relief flooding through his body at the exact moment that life left Blackjacks broken body. His broken legs tingled whenever he thought about it, an unpleasant sensation as if a colony of ants were buried under his skin. Soon he promised himself. Soon the last name would be crossed off the list.
As he stared off into the distance a car pulled in and parked a few feet away from his bike. A large sweaty and greasy man wearing a bright and gaudy Hawaiian shirt ambled out of the car. The car creaked and rocked when the man’s ample frame exited it. He nodded towards Darian and said, “Beautiful day out.”
It was a statement that needed no answer, it was an empty platitude that immediately put Darian on edge. Darian nodded curtly feeling no need to engage with this whale of a man. The man smiled weakly at him and walked towards the bench looking for better conversation from the woman lying atop the table. Darian looked at the disgusting fat man with almost pity. He had blundered into quicksand without even knowing it. Darian relished the moment when realization flashed across his victim’s face, the moment when they knew they were in serious trouble. It was always too late for them. The expression was usually a quizzically confused drawing back of the lips exposing their gums. In another situation it might be funny, the pulled and strained look as their eyes darted back and forward in disbelief. It was without fail too late for them, the quicksand was about to engulf the hapless soul and pull them down into the boggy depths.
“It’s a beautiful day out, don’t you think? I reckon it’s a perfect day for a long drive. Where you folks off to?” he said looking down at Emily.
Darian could see Emily begin to smile. She could see that the obese man was completely oblivious to the trouble he was in. She sat up crossed legged and looked at him and he mistook her smile for one of friendliness.
“It’s a good day to die” Emily said giggling.
The man stepped back and looked at her completely confused. In that moment he froze as his brain tried to process what he had just heard. “Come again?” he stuttered.
“You heard me,” Emily said.
Darian’s boots crunched on the gravel and the man turned at the noise. Darian’s legs buzzed and pained him as he closed the gap between him and the man. The man’s eyes widened in fear as he saw Darian stride forward. Right in that moment he knew what was happening and the confused and fearful look flashed across his face. Darian’s arm swung up swiftly in an arc and his blade swung effortlessly across their victim’s neck.
The man fell to his knees as he gurgled, his blood spilled through his fingers which vainly tried to staunch the flow. He toppled over onto his back as his legs trashed weakly, it almost looked like he was dancing. His jerky movements slowed as his life drained away and his dead eyes faced
towards the sky never to see another beautiful day again.
Darian looked towards the road and the cool asphalt was empty in both directions. Emily stood over the man and she looked disappointed. She had giggled and smiled broadly when she had first seen him kill with a swift flourish of his blade, but lately she had looked drawn and sad standing over the corpses he had created for her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“It’s too quick. I want to play with them. I want to savor it. I want to spend time with them. Get to know them,” she said.
This was something he had never thought about before. Darian liked the quick kill. The knife drawn across the neck was his preferred method. He was afraid of being overpowered or even worse if he only injured the victim and then they could outrun him and escape. He was always aware of the limitations of his broken legs and though he enjoyed the look of fear on his victims face he did not want to prolong it, his blade taking their life always swiftly followed.
In his notebook he had sketched out ideas for torturing Blackjack, ideas that would make him wish he was dead a thousand times over. Up until now these had been nothing more than a beautiful dream for him, methods of torture that he would never try for fear of Blackjack escaping him. Now that he had Emily, maybe it was time for him to rethink what he was capable of.
Emily tapped the diagram in the notebook insistently and Darian was brought back into the present.
“What about this? I like it a lot more, nice and slow,” she said as her finger seductively traced the lines of one of his horrific ideas.
Darian looked at his drawing and then back to Emily. Before he even answered he knew that she had changed him. He wasn’t sure if it was love that he felt for her, as he had never felt like this before. What he was sure of was that she was the same as him, forged in the fire of pain and misery and they both had come through it stronger people. They were superior to all around them, they had peaked behind the veil and seen the real possibilities that were there for the taking, they just had to reach out and grab hold.
“We’ll do it your way, I think he deserves special treatment. We will take as long as you want,” he said leaning in to kiss her.
To the patrons of the diner they looked like any other young couple in love. Some had noticed them when they entered the diner, the man with the slight limp and the young woman in the wispy dress. Some had looked at the limping man with pity, wondering what had happened to him.
The man sitting in the back of the diner had no such thoughts. He wore all black and his Stetson was pulled down low bathing his face in shadow. The only splash of color on his attire was a rose embroidered into the breast pocket of his shirt. It had a bright green stem covered in thorns. One of the thorns had a small drop of scarlet blood dripping from it and clinging to the head of the rose was one last petal that was stitched in an improbably bright cerulean.
The man in the Stetson never took his eyes off Darian and his demented partner. He had been following them for a long time. Waiting patiently to make his move. He was in no hurry to interfere in their cross country rampage of destruction. He was a patient man and he knew that patience would bring him closer to the end times, right now all he needed to do was sit back and observe. God would let him know when it was time for him to intercede. The great almighty would; as he had done countless times before, show him a sign and instruct him on his next course of action. Right now he was to be no more than a passive observer.
The man with the rose embroidered on his shirt paid his bill and left the diner, never taking his eyes off the couple as he exited. He returned to his car parked across the street and sat watching them through the large diner windows waiting for this afternoon to play out.
Shortly after the couple left the diner and mounted Darian’s motorbike. They both had crooked grins plastered on their faces as they imagined the fun they would have slowly breaking down Blackjack until he was nothing more than a stain on the ground. They sped off in a cloud of dust and neither of them noticed the car pulling out behind them and following at a distance.
CHAPTER TEN
Linda tightened her arms around Blackjack as the bike came out of a sharp bend. The road ahead cut through the night, a black strip of asphalt below a night sky flecked with stars. Blackjack accelerated on the straight and the sudden increase in speed was exhilarating. The backcountry road was only illuminated by the thin beam of light from the bike and Linda stared into the dark as she rested her head against Blackjacks broad back. In the distance she could see a couple of lights of a far away farmhouse.
Linda knew that as soon as she had some time to herself she would try to leave a status message for the chief of the special crimes unit. They used a number with an extension to a small pizza store in a rundown part of the city. All calls to that extension were recorded and it was used by all the undercover agents currently in the field. If anyone else ever got their hands on the number and called they would be greeted by a jovial sounding immigrant ready to take a pizza order. A couple of code words mixed in with a botched pizza order would be enough for her boss to know that she had infiltrated the gang and that she was currently safe. As she ran over the various possibilities on how to play Blackjack and the gang, how to insinuate further into the enclave and make herself more indispensable to Blackjack she kept getting flashbacks to sleeping with him a few hours ago.
Back in the ranch she had mechanically and coldly slept with him, as it was the only option for her not to raise his suspicion. During the act she had tried to her best to fake excitement when in reality she felt nothing in that moment. It wasn’t until at the height of his passion when Blackjack pulled her close in his arms and locked eyes with her that she had started to feel something stir inside. It wasn’t only something physical, it was a feeling much worse and far more dangerous for Linda. It was a feeling of connection and closeness to him. She pushed this away as quickly as it had surfaced. In her line of work there was nothing more dangerous than feeling something for the people you had to put away. She tried to warn herself that Blackjack was dangerous and she needs to be…
Linda never got to finish that thought. As it began to bubble up from her sub consciousness Blackjack turned the bike harshly and pulled the brake as if to avoid an animal on the road. The bike decelerated quickly and wobbled as it tilted. It was too little too late as the wire strung across the width of the road caught him square in the chest. The force of the impact even at the reduced speed slammed Blackjack backwards into Linda and sent them both flying off the bike. Instinctively Blackjack turned slightly in the air and his broad body took most of the impact as they both slammed into the blacktop. They slid and rolled along the cracked surface in a cloud of billowing dust. Blackjack came to rest in the center of the road and Linda lay with one leg dangling into the ditch at the side of the road. One of her shoes had flown off and her shirt had rode up exposing the skin of her back to the abrasive surface of the asphalt.
The motorbike continued on of its own volition for a few feet and then wobbled and skidded along on its side sending up a bright flare of sparks as the chrome exhaust scratched across the roads surface. When it came to a juddering stop the front headlight was pointing towards Blackjack, illuminating his unconscious body in a beam of light.
Linda got up on one elbow to survey the damage. Her ears rung and her mouth felt like she had inhaled a cloud of grit. She looked over at Blackjack and he wasn’t moving, he was lying flat out on his back and a small trickle of blood ran out of his ear. Linda started to pull herself towards him and with each jerky movement forward she grew more confidant that she had broken no bones. She could feel the burning sensation on her back were the skin was shredded. Every inch she moved forward causing fresh pain to throb though her body.
As she dragged herself towards the unconscious Blackjack she could see a pair of headlights off in the distance. Help was close by she thought to herself with relief. A sound of a boot crunching on broken glass caused her to turn and any sense of mo
mentary relief was snuffed out. Standing a few feet away and casting a long and twisted shadow from the light of the over turned bike stood a man watching her. Her years on the police force told her right away that there was something off about him. Maybe it was the way his head hung to the side as he looked at her, an interested look on his face as if he was observing a beetle on its back. His features were bathed in shadows, which made him look like he was smiling widely at her. She couldn’t tell, all she knew was that Blackjack had weapons on him and she would feel a lot safer with one in her hand.
