by Tom Benson
“What part did this Strickland guy play in the proceedings?”
“He wasn’t into any of the sadistic stuff; he was purely interested in forceful sex.”
“You mean you don’t consider multiple rapes to be sadistic?”
“Yes, but he preferred his victims to be younger teenage boys or girls-,”
“Stop,” Honey interrupted. “What did he look like?”
“I only saw him twice-,”
“Description Sorrenson,” she said, “you’re supposed to be a fucking detective.”
“He was about five-ten, maybe 160lbs. He had dark hair and one of those gunslinger mustaches. His eyes were cold. I never saw the guy show emotion.”
Surely not, Honey thought as the image of a certain man came to mind.
Honey walked towards the compound where the deer had been. She lifted a small canvas feed sack and took it to Sorrenson. When she threw it at him, he caught it and looked at her, his eyes wide.
She said, “Where would Morgan go to keep a low profile?” Honey took a step closer to him, took the Magnum in her left hand, and with her right hand withdrew the long hunting knife from the sheath hanging at her hip. “For example, like right now, because I reckon he knows you’ve disappeared from duty.”
“He has a boat up in Michigan,” Sorrenson said.
“That cuts it down then,” Honey said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “That cuts it down to several hundred miles of coastline and marinas.”
“Jeez, it’s in Michigan. I don’t know anything about boats; I go hunting.”
“Would you like me to help you concentrate?” she said and moved the knife close to his lower regions. She saw his eyes flickering as he tried to hold his nerve. “You must have heard of regions in Michigan, like the Up and the Thumb.” She touched the point of the blade against his abdomen.
Sorrenson clenched his teeth and briefly closed his eyes. The blade broke the skin.
“Southern Michigan,” he gasped. “Near a place called Muskegon,” He looked upwards in thought. “His boat is called Dark Lady or Dark Woman, or something like that.” Tears started to ooze from the corners of his eyes.
“I know where Muskegon is,” she said. “How long does it take him to get there?”
“I don’t know,” Sorrenson was panting, trying to concentrate. “He sometimes goes there for a weekend break.”
Honey made a rapid calculation. Southern Michigan was within a few hours, but anywhere on the Upper Peninsula or out to the Thumb on the east coast would be several more hours. That made them too far for a regular weekend trip.
She said, “What color is this boat?”
“Jeez, I don’t know, I’ve never seen the damn thing. I just know he owns a boat.” He didn’t care about Morgan’s wrath anymore. He would rather face Morgan than this woman.
“Who else knows about this boat?”
“I don’t think anybody else knows. He had to confide in me once and told me never to tell anybody else.”
She said, “Pull that sack over your head, now!”
Sorrenson swallowed hard and started to sniffle as he lifted the stinking animal feedbag over his head. He let his arms fall by his sides and realized new depths of terror. He trembled, and the bag was sucked in and out, in concert with the rise and fall of his chest.
Honey knew that her captive couldn’t see anything, and she stepped close to him. She lowered the knife in her hand and turned it up slightly so that the point curved upwards between his trembling thighs and pressed into his scrotum. He flinched but knew not to speak unless spoken to.
Honey said, “You have five seconds to tell me the mooring, or I’ll make you eat your balls.”
“Lakeshore or something,” he cried out, “for Christ’s sake that’s it, Lakeshore-,”
Honey said, “Now start turning around in circles, but stay in the same patch.” She sheathed the knife and moved forward, then gripped Sorrenson’s shoulder with one hand to speed him up. “Turn faster, faster,” she said and stepped back. She took the Magnum back in her right hand.
Sorrenson’s feet shuffled together as he tried to move around in a tight circle. He was terrified and now disorientated. His mind filled with thoughts of wolves, a woman with a knife and gun, and feelings of guilt and sorrow. He’d only ever inflicted terror before and had never experienced it.
All other thoughts and emotions were over-ridden by a profound feeling of helplessness and anger at his capture. He wondered if he would get a chance to kill her. If he managed, he would go on to kill Morgan. He had caused the upheaval with his depraved shenanigans. Sorrenson thoughts became a maelstrom.
“Stop,” Honey said. “Stand still until I tell you to move.” She heard him sob again. She went forward and slammed the sliding bolt on the gate. It was only a yard away from Sorrenson, so it was particularly loud when the metal and metal clattered together.
“Now,” Honey said quietly, “start walking forward, real slow.”
“Please,” Sorrenson said and defecated. He sprayed his buttocks and legs with his mess and his body trembled violently as he urinated.
“Fucking walk Sorrenson or I’ll cut your balls off right now.”
He started walking, taking steps of about two inches, sobbing quietly. It seemed he was only brave when he had a gun, or his victim was bound and defenseless.
Honey lifted a small stone and threw it over the fence to land near the wolves. Two of them growled near the fence. Sorrenson’s hood spun left and right at the sound.
He defecated and urinated again, which served to soak his shuffling legs and feet. His crying and pleading had become ceaseless and almost childlike. He was a broken man; filled with a terrible regret, but his fear was still the greater emotion.
Honey turned from her position beside the closed gate to look at the soiled, shambling figure as he continued to shuffle harmlessly along the grass, close to but on the outside of the perimeter fence.
“Stop and turn to the right,” Honey said. She hooked the padlock onto the metal bar that she had slammed closed moments before, and then she followed Sorrenson.
“Now walk forward again,” she said.
It was another five minutes before the captive realized he wasn’t walking inside the compound, but it still took almost half an hour to get to the area near the cabin.
“Now,” Honey said, “you stand perfectly still.” She held her large knife under his scrotum and applied enough pressure to produce a trickle of blood and a muffled cry.
She said, “If you try to run and you manage to avoid the bear traps all around you, and a lone wolf in the forest, I’ll catch you and cut your balls off.” She raised the heavy blade a fraction and saw his body flinch and then go stiff. “Understood?”
“Understood,” he said and then went quiet, apart from the occasional whimper as he trembled. The sackcloth continued to move in and out whenever his breathing increased in depth and rate, but he remained in one spot.
She said, “Lift your hands up behind your head and clasp your fingers tight together.”
He obeyed instantly.
Honey said, “If I see the slightest hint that you’re trying to move that sack, you lose your balls.”
“Okay, okay,” he said, grateful to be in a minefield of bear traps and not a compound full of wolves. If she was around he’d be safe from the one that was running loose. If he’d calmed down a moment to consider it, he had seen the animals in the compound more than once in the past. Higgins only had five wolves, and he had just seen all of them.
Honey went silently up the wooden steps into the cabin to fetch something from her backpack and then returned to stand in front of Sorrenson. She had gripped the front of the canvas hood before she spoke to him.
“I’m going to lift the front of this hood in a moment. I’ll be holding a picture up in front of you, and I want you to focus on it for two seconds.” She paused. “Understood?”
“Understood,” he responded instantly.
&nb
sp; Honey held the Wanted poster up close to the front of the hood with one hand and then lifted the canvas for two seconds. Sorrenson blinked several times before focusing and then the hood was down again.
Honey said, “What’s his name?”
“Strickland,” Sorrenson said. “That’s the guy called Strickland.”
Honey returned to the cabin to fetch her pack and then she set up her camping stove about 50 yards from her captive. Before continuing, she decided to send a text message to Maria.
‘WNTD PSTR; STRICKLAND? H’
The reply came within a minute. ‘WIL CNTCT IF NYTHNG. M’
Honey cooked herself a simple meal and then after eating, had coffee whilst sitting on a large tree stump. When nourishment had been taken care of, she made her way quietly across to the cabin and removed the car keys from Sorrenson’s coat pocket. As she left the cabin, she watched him closely and was confident he had no idea where she was.
Honey strolled down to Sorrenson’s car and flipped the trunk. First, she lifted the mat to uncover the spare wheel and stuck her knife into the wall of the tire. She lifted the hood, eased the cover from the fuse box and removed the heater fuse.
It took two more minutes with the key in the ignition to buzz down all the windows and then she disabled the mechanism. For good measure, she forced the tip of her knife into the front of the police radio and twisted the blade as she pushed. She returned to her position not far from the cabin to watch the naked pervert as he suffered.
*
Throughout the day and into the evening, on the hour, Honey walked close up behind Sorrenson and told him to relax his arms. She would allow ten minutes of intense pain as his arms came back to life, before telling him to clasp his hands behind his head once again. The pain of raising them intensified each time.
As evening fell, the temperature fell too, and Sorrenson trembled more violently than ever. His entire body was shaking, and he made whimpering sounds under the canvas hood. It was mainly because of the pain in his raised arms and the cold, but he made no effort to speak or move. There was the constant irritation of insects visiting Sorrenson’s soiled body, but he learned quickly to accept their attention. He had become attached to his balls over the years.
By 8:15pm, after completing the hourly pain and recovery session with Sorrenson, Honey decided to eat a cereal bar and have another coffee. When finished, she packed away all of her equipment ready to go.
The Ghillie suit was a one-piece affair so was warmer, and for that reason she chose to continue wearing it for a while longer. She watched the brightness of the summer day and the glorious colors of the forest all start to fade and blend into several dark shades. If she didn’t look at her prisoner, she felt good. There was still a woodland fragrance.
At 9:15pm, a few minutes after the prisoner’s most recent exercise, Honey’s cell buzzed. She walked along the trail about ten yards, watching Sorrenson as she took the call.
“Hi Bert,” she listened to an update from the PI. “So you’ll be finished the first phase within say four or five hours?” She looked at Sorrenson, as she worked out the journey time back to Shelbyville or Greensburg. Any discomfort factors she had included for the detective did not affect her calculations.
“Thanks for that Bert,” she said. “You’ll have the balance of your cash when we meet again, and if you’re free, I might have another task for you.” She paused to let him explain when and where he wanted to meet. “Okay, got it. See you there. Bye.”
Honey made her final preparations to leave the area. She had a few minor details to take care of inside and outside the cabin, but managed to finish for 9:45pm. She was ahead of her schedule and happy, until she saw the headlamps coming up the trail. Honey had reached Sorrenson before the vehicle arrived on the smaller trail to the cabin.
She stood close. “Somebody else has arrived. If things start getting out of hand, you get shot first, so keep quiet no matter what happens. Understood?”
“Understood,” he said and remained perfectly still.
*
The pick-up was bright yellow and had a massive badge on the front doors and the hood, declaring it belonged to the Park Ranger’s Department. A handsome woman in her mid-40’s got out of the vehicle and stopped to reach back inside for her radio. She wore a khaki shirt and shorts with hiking boots. As she stepped away from her truck and looked ahead at the naked man with the canvas hood over his head, she wondered if it was some practical joke by her colleagues. At first, she grinned.
Under normal circumstances, Mary Beth Lambert would have checked out a guy’s butt and fantasized about digging her nails into it during sex. As she stepped away from her truck and took in the sight of Sorrenson’s soiled posterior and legs, the last thing she wanted to do was touch any of it.
She had been asked to patrol the sector because unusually there had been a sound similar to the howling of wolves. As she looked around, puzzled by the scene that had unfolded in front of her; the ranger lifted her radio to her lips. The cold barrel of the Magnum touched her ear. The woman knew instinctively not to move a muscle.
Honey said, “I’d like y’all to lower the radio and not make a sound. Understood?” She used her standby, southern accent to disguise her distinctive, regular New York dialect.
“Understood,” Mary Beth said in a whisper. This predicament was more dangerous than wolves.
Honey knew her fake accent might not be perfect, but the fear of the captive would make it sound more convincing than it was. She took the radio from the lowered hand of the ranger.
Honey said, “Are you alone on this patrol?”
“Yes, I’ve just checked in by radio to say where I am.”
“That’s good,” Honey said sweetly. “Now, make your way across to that cabin, and then very quietly go up the steps and go inside.” She looked around. “I’ll be right behind you, so don’t go lookin’ around and don’t speak.”
The woman walked slowly forward and glanced down at the tufts of grass where the bear traps appeared. She reached the steps and tip-toed up to the porch. Following a brief pause, she pushed the door open and went inside to the darkened cabin.
“Go into that small room on your left,” Honey said, indicating the cupboard-sized room with a portable toilet inside. The woman made her way towards the room and pulled the door open.
Honey said, “When does your shift end tonight honeybunch?”
“At midnight,” the trembling woman whispered, remembering to keep noise to a minimum. “Somebody will come looking for me if I’m not back by then.”
“What’s your name?”
“Mary Beth Lambert.”
“What were you lookin’ for up here Mary Beth?”
“There have been reports of howls, you know like wolves, but it could be wild dogs?”
“That figures,” Honey said. “Y’all can take the word of a true Texan gal. They’re here alright, and they’re behind this lil’ ole hut, but they ain’t no wild dogs. Now, you just get in there Mary Beth, and y’all make yourself comfortable.”
Honey dragged the large pine table across the floor, trying hard not to make a noise.
Honey was pleased to have managed the situation without causing any physical harm to the woman. The ranger had just picked a bad time to go investigating the wolf howls.
*
Honey checked her watch; 9:58pm. She placed her backpack near the trail and walked to within five yards of Sorrenson. He was trembling violently from a mix of fear and exhaustion. He wasn’t accustomed to spending a day like this, and he hadn’t eaten since the previous night. It was by this stage that he started to appreciate a fraction of the fear that had been experienced by the young victims that he and his cronies had imprisoned and abused.
Honey said, “When I tell you to take the hood off, I’m going to count to 20.” She paused and moved away a few paces. “Understood?”
“Understood,” he muttered, the hood moving side to side, as he tried to locate her voice.
She sounded close but had spoken quietly.
She said, “As soon as I reach 20, I will shoot you.” She paused and moved again. “Understood?”
“Understood,” was the instant reply. He understood that the woman was capable.
She said, “Before you remove the hood you have to take a couple of things into consideration.” She paused and as she moved around him again, checked the time; 10pm.
Honey stepped close behind him, touching the cold steel muzzle of the Magnum against his quivering buttocks. “The keys to your car are on the table in the cabin, and so is the key to the compound.” She watched the hood turn side to side.
Sorrenson didn’t speak, but the rate of his breathing had increased and the hood lifted a little as his head spun side to side. His breathing was rapid and loud as he panted.
Honey said, “The choice you make is important, because apart from your car keys, everything else that belongs to you is five yards inside the main compound.” She paused for five seconds, stepped away and then continued, “Remove the hood ... one ... two ... three ....”
When Sorrenson tried to unclasp his fingers, he couldn’t feel them. It had been an hour since he’d last exercised his fingers or arms. In frustration, he screamed as he pulled his hands apart and then dragged the hood from his head.
Only his mental state allowed the movement, because after unclasping his fingers, his hands and arms felt like useless appendages. He quickly looked around in the semi-darkness and realized he had been standing in the middle of the main grassy trail. The nearest of the bear traps was about ten yards away, and so too was the log cabin.
Honey’s voice carried clearly from behind him. “Six ... seven ... eight ....”
Sorrenson tried to move, but he stumbled and fell, because the muscles in his legs wouldn’t work. His arms didn’t respond to break the fall, so he hit the ground face first. Blades of grass probed his eyes and stones bruised his cheeks and jaw. He cursed aloud as it took three attempts to make his arms and legs work.
