A Taste of Honey

by Tom Benson

  Five minutes later, Honey was feeling thoroughly sickened by both the photographic files and video files that she discovered, all of which confirmed what she already knew about Higgins. Several of the videos featured the man himself mistreating very young girls. Following a quick look at the power level of the machine, Honey switched off the programs, lifted her rifle and left the cabin. She had things to do.

  *

  From the cabin, she made her way along the overgrown trail to the location of the dark green pick-up. In daylight, it was easy to see that there was an area between the trees a few yards away where vehicles had parked in the recent past. They were most likely visitors from the circle of predators, like Brett on one of his special missions. It was all the confirmation she needed that the others knew how to reach this place.

  Honey made her way back up the grassy trail, past the cabin, and the compound where the wolves had settled to rest beside a large tree. She continued and climbed once more onto the rock formation. It took a few minutes to set up her stove on the ledge. She arranged the ingredients for a late breakfast, and as she waited for the water to heat for coffee, she made a call.

  “Hi Bert,” she said, “yes, it’s Honey.” She listened to his report and nodded to herself as she heard about the PI’s rapid progress. “That’s quick work,” she said. “How much time would you need to set up the second phase?” She listened again for a moment and assured him he’d have the time he required.

  Things were moving along fine, so she enjoyed her coffee as she cooked a hot meal. After eating, she sat and listened to the birds singing as she enjoyed a second coffee and a cereal bar. After dealing with her hunger pangs, she set her watch, lay down on the rocky platform and pulled her Boonie hat down over her face.

  At 11am, Honey’s watch vibrated. She lifted the hat with her left hand and opened her eyes, whilst her right hand reached down and gripped her rifle. It had taken only a few seconds before she was once again at home with her surroundings.

  Honey was still dressed and had managed another three hours sleep. It took a quick tug on her bootlaces to get them tight again. She had already packed the backpack, so it only remained to sling it over her shoulder before she descended to the forest floor.

  She returned to the log cabin to prepare for the arrival of the next visitor.

  *

  At 11:50am, a car climbed the gradient towards the cabin. The motor was laboring in low revs as the vehicle struggled and skidded up the hill. The sound carried because it was a regular sedan. The motor and radial tires were more at home on the highway, or in the city. The driver parked in the space near the green pick-up in the trees, but it was done in such a way that it looked as if it was a practiced maneuver.

  Detective Ben Sorrenson got out of his car and immediately drew his automatic pistol. He looked around and listened as he gently closed the car door. Sorrenson slipped on the grassy trail and cursed when he fell against the rear of his car, slapping the trunk with his open left hand. He had been here before, but he had not returned wearing an appropriate outfit. His leather-soled shoes and light gray suit looked out of place among the colors, shapes and textures of nature.

  Sorrenson wasn’t a big man by any stretch of the imagination. He stood a little over five foot nine, weighed around 160lbs and looked very average. If he weren't a police detective, he would have made a good secret agent, in appearance at any rate. He was ordinary to look at, with his pale complexion, short fair hair and brown eyes. His eyes were bloodshot and dulled by fatigue.

  He slipped and cursed several times as he tried to keep his footing on the way up the trail to the cabin. When he was a few yards away from the small building, he saw the displacement of bear traps and shook his head. He had long ago decided that Higgins was not right in the head. There were voices coming from the cabin, so Sorrenson looked around once more before moving forward with more stealth than previously.

  “Take all of it you bitch,” a man’s voice shouted from within the cabin.

  “Not again,” a young female voice cried, “please, not again.”

  “I didn’t ask you to talk,” the man said, and there were a loud slap and a yelp of pain.

  Sorrenson recognized the man’s voice. The detective crept up the wooden steps onto the porch and bypassed the door so that he could take a peek. His voyeuristic tendencies over-rode his caution. Before he could look inside, something caught his attention, and he half-turned.

  “Go straight in,” Honey said, “or you might miss the end.”

  Sorrenson glanced at the woman’s face under the brim of the hat; his eyes opened wide, and his jaw dropped. He thought he recognized the voice, but for some reason a name didn’t come to mind. He had only glanced at her because his eyes were drawn inexorably to the long gleaming silver barrel of the .44 Magnum aiming at his groin from a few feet away.

  The detective gave a moment’s consideration to turning and opening fire, but realized he would never get his automatic up in time. The woman holding the revolver had the drop on him. She maintained a steady two-handed grip, aware of the power of her weapon. Even if the Magnum kicked, the shot would undoubtedly remove most of the man’s sexual organs.

  Sorrenson had managed to reach the hut by applying stealth and keeping his wits about him, but the hint of a cheap thrill had caused him to let his guard fall. He found himself standing gripping a loaded firearm, but it was hanging useless by his side.

  The man was frozen in disbelief that this could happen to him. Since he’d been caught out by a woman in the Pinewood incident and locked in his trunk, he had been extremely careful. When he was released from the trunk that day, he got over the embarrassment and then heard about Brett being burned alive in the house.

  He had been on his guard because Morgan had told him to be cautious. It seemed that Morgan had a good idea who the vigilante was, but he wouldn’t confirm it by giving Sorrenson a name or description. He didn’t need a description now because he had a feeling he was looking at her.

  He stood with a sagging jaw and wondered if he could cut some deal to gain mercy. The detective had a sinking feeling about pleading with the woman in the strange camouflaged outfit. She didn’t look like a negotiator.

  Honey said, “Place the gun on that bench and then go inside. I won’t tell you again.”

  Sorrenson obeyed, and Honey glanced over her shoulder one more time, before she followed him and closed the door.

  ***

  Chapter 13

  Good Timing

  .

  Once inside the log cabin, the distance between the business end of the Magnum and Sorrenson’s body was dramatically reduced, but it was still too dangerous a prospect to grapple with the woman. The fact that she was wearing latex gloves was ominous.

  He said, “Could I have a cigarette?”

  “No,” Honey said, “and if you move from that spot before I tell you, I’ll put a bullet in your stomach. That’s not a pleasant way to go, and very slow, as I’m sure you know.”

  Sorrenson glanced at one of the pockets on Honey’s camouflaged outfit and noticed there was an ivory pistol grip sticking out. It was his gun, which she had obviously lifted from the porch as she followed him indoors.

  The porn video was still running on the laptop, and although Honey was able to ignore it, the man in front of her couldn’t stop himself glancing sideways at the action. Higgins was moaning and telling his teenage victim what he intended to do to her next. The girl in the video cried and whimpered. She was being punished for no other reasons than her age and for being an attractive young woman.

  Honey said, “That girl is dead now you know.” She didn’t look down at the laptop, continuing instead to glare at the detective as she spoke. “She died at the hands of that cruel, insensitive, inhuman piece of shit.” She wanted to press home that point before she stepped to one side and stopped the video.

  “What do you want from me?” Sorrenson said, and then it dawned on him. He looked up at the ceiling an
d sighed. He then made the mistake of voicing his thoughts. “It was you weren’t it - the phone call to get me here?”

  “Wow,” Honey said without humor. “I can see how you made detective.” She shook her head. “You don’t have much luck around phones. It was thanks to your recently expired friend and a phone that I heard your conversation about my sister.” She glared at him as she continued in a quiet, menacing tone. “He pressed the button and you couldn’t shut him up.”

  Blind panic had fogged Sorrenson’s thinking for days. As he considered that this was the sister of one of the victims, he knew things were going to get worse, much worse. He was tempted once again to make a grab for the pistol so that perhaps this woman would shoot him, and he wouldn’t be made to suffer. He would have grabbed for it, but he didn’t have the guts to risk failure.

  Honey said, “Get undressed.”

  “What?” Although Sorrenson heard the instruction, he couldn’t understand why. He was mystified and stared at her, but didn’t comply.

  She said, “If you’d prefer to do it with a bullet in one of your feet, just take longer than five seconds to get started.” She lowered her right arm and aimed the heavy pistol towards his feet.

  Sorrenson shook his head and slowly removed his jacket. He hung it on the back of one of the two chairs, before he loosened his tie and then continued to undress. He draped all of his clothes over the back of the same chair. As Honey thought he might, Sorrenson stopped removing his clothes and stood upright when he reached his shorts.

  She said, “Did I say anything about leaving the underwear on?”

  “No-,”

  “Well, fucking remove it - now!”

  Sorrenson recognized the quieter, but much more threatening, angrier tone and swiftly removed his boxer shorts and socks. In her brief command, the woman had dealt a fatal blow to Sorrenson’s battered confidence. It had totally disappeared by the time he was naked. Self-consciously the man brought his hands around to his front, until he saw his tormentor shake her head. He moved his arms by his sides and looked straight at the weapon.

  Whilst the detective had been stumbling around to take off his boxers, Honey looked at the man from head to toe. He wasn’t an impressive figure. She appraised him again slowly as he watched so that he was fully aware of her disgust.

  Sorrenson said, “Where’s Higgins?” and his voice quivered as he spoke.

  “Step outside,”

  “Like this-,” he started to ask. He saw her eyes open wide, and her eyebrows rise.

  The detective felt that the whole situation was becoming surreal as he stepped towards the door. He looked back at his captor and then to the door again. He pulled the door open. When he felt a gun barrel touch the small of his back, it helped with his decision about going down the timber steps to the grass.

  He stopped in front of the cabin and looked around for the first time, at the total number of bear traps laid in the surrounding area. He’d somehow overlooked just how many there were when he’d heard the voices inside the cabin.

  Honey said, “Walk around to the back, to the large compound.”

  “What if-,” Sorrenson started, but then thought better of it and started walking.

  The pair made their way in silence along to the side of the cabin and then turned left. They both lifted their feet high to clear the clumps of grass as they slowly covered the 50 yard gap to the perimeter fence of the main compound.

  The man stopped at the corner of the mesh fence and looked inside nervously. Sorrenson knew what was held captive there and why. The gun at his back now felt like a better option. He didn’t offer an opinion, content for the moment to do as bid.

  Honey said, “Walk along to the gate.”

  Sorrenson hesitated until he felt the cold steel of the muzzle touch the back of his right thigh, just above the knee. He knew it was from behind the knee that so-called punishment shootings took place, shattering the kneecap. He turned to his left and stepped slowly, unsteadily to the gate and looked inside, left and right. The sound of him gulping carried to the woman behind him.

  Honey said, “Do you know what’s in there?”

  “Yes,” the man said instantly and swallowed hard again.

  “Now we’re going to play a life and death quiz,” Honey said, “which are stakes I know you’re familiar with.” She glanced to the left as two of the occupants of the compound loped towards the gate, having sensed visitors.

  “What do I have to do,” Sorrenson said. “Just name it.”

  “I want to hear the part you played with your sordid little ring of sexual deviants and I want to know the name of every member of your group.” She glanced at the lupines as they skulked around near to the gate, tongues lolling out. They were both staring with an unwavering gaze, directly at the naked man.

  “How do I know you won’t just kill me anyway?” Sorrenson said.

  “You don’t know,” she said, “but to give you some idea of my expectations, let’s take another stroll. Go back along the fence to the trail and follow the fence left at the corner.”

  Sorrenson turned and again moved slowly, the occasional stone digging into his bare feet, but he didn’t complain. His eyes played constantly over the greenery around them, and he wondered what his chances would be if he were to get into the trees. He knew if he could just get that first few yards into the foliage; he might make it. He paused at the corner.

  Honey said, “Go up and along the trail towards the rocky outcrop.” She saw the man’s head turn slightly as they started along the narrow trail and closer to the deeper forest. She watched him for two more minutes and then raised her right hand to press the end of the Magnum’s barrel against the back of his neck.

  “Just in case you’re thinking about running into the trees Sorrenson, I think it’s only fair to warn you that I let one of those wolves out this morning.”

  Sorrenson paused, glanced towards the trees and then continued to shuffle forward slowly.

  Honey continued, “That lone wolf is probably stalking us right now, watching us from behind undergrowth, or at least watching the one that doesn’t have clothing or a weapon.”

  Sorrenson’s head tilted back as he swallowed hard, and said a silent prayer.

  They arrived at the top corner of the compound where the fence ran along the base of the high rock formation. It was the outcrop that Honey had used as her base.

  “Stop there,” she said, “and tell me what you see about 50 yards away, inside the compound.”

  “Two,” he paused and glanced to the left as he counted the newcomers as they trotted forward. “No, not two,” he murmured, “I see five wolves.”

  “What else?”

  “A large tree with some rags spread around the base,” he said as he focused beyond the staring animals to the tree.

  “Look closer at the rags.”

  “Some bones,” Sorrenson said, “some rags and a carcass.”

  “That,” Honey said, “is the result of not doing exactly as I say.”

  Sorrenson eyes widened, and his jaw slackened. He puked and then urinated when he realized he was looking at the remains of the man he’d just seen on a porn video. He could see what now looked like red and white sneakers and torn red-stained jeans. He instantly recognized the plaid shirt which was shredded and blood-stained.

  He started to cry openly and turned away from the wolves. All five animals were a few feet away inside the fence, salivating, tongues lolling from the side of their powerful jaws. The alpha male pricked up its ears and stared at the naked man before licking its jaws.

  “Just so that you know,” Honey whispered, “he was alive when he went in there.”

  Sorrenson retched again. “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you everything.”

  “Let’s go back down to the gate.”

  “I said I’ll tell you everything,” he cried. “Please spare me.”

  “The gate,” Honey repeated. “If I believe you, then you’ll get to leave here, but if I think you�
�re lying, you join your sadistic friend in there.”

  Sorrenson made his way down the trail and didn’t feel any of the stones that cut into his feet. He couldn’t help glancing into the compound because the wolves were shadowing the two humans as they walked.

  At the gate, Honey unlocked the padlock and slid the bolt back until there was only about one inch to go. The wolf pack waited patiently on the other side only five yards from the fence. One of them sat almost like a domestic animal awaiting a meal.

  Sorrenson stood with his back close to the gate and talked as fast as his jaws would work. He named everybody that Honey knew was already in the book. He repeated the names and assured her that he didn’t know anybody else who should be on the list. When prompted, he said he didn’t know the whereabouts of the two people from the college. He thought they had skipped town after the house fire.

  Honey told him to relate in detail, his part in what went on in the house and elsewhere. It was during this explanation that she got confirmation that he and Morgan had paid visits to the basement in the Carson house near the college. It also confirmed for her that as serving police officers they were more culpable than any of their associates.

  When asked for the details of the victims, Sorrenson was even more accurate than the others. In between pleading for his life and blaming the others, he reeled off the full names of every girl on Honey’s list. When pushed, he managed to remember all of their ages. There was no need to write or check details. The list was fully corroborated.

  Honey said, “Why should I believe that Morgan was the ring leader?”

  “For the love of God,” Sorrenson said. “I’ve told you all I know. I’ve admitted my part. I don’t know anything else.” He paused for a moment. “Wait, there was another name.”

  “What name?” Honey said, aware that he might be playing for time.

  “Strickland is the guy’s surname, but I never heard his first name. Morgan knew him.” Not for the first time, her step-father was being promoted by a member of his group as the ringleader.