by Tim Miller
Return to Hell Texas
Tim Miller
Copyright © 2016 Tim Miller
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. The following is a work of fiction. Any representation of any actual persons living or dead is coincidental.
Cover image photographed, modeled and edited by Mel Heflin
Dedication
Several years ago a crazy ass blogger named Tracy “Necrostein” Crocket happened upon my book, “Hell, Texas” and wrote one of the craziest reviews I’d ever had written about my work at that time. Back then I had just begun writing extreme horror and no one had ever heard of me. Because he loved the book so much, he posted it all over the place until several other blogs and sites had picked up on it.
Now Hell, Texas is considered one of my classics among fans and readers. Necro was super stoked when he found out I was working on a sequel a few months ago. Sadly, he passed away recently after battling a string of heart conditions over the past several years. So I wanted to take this moment to dedicate this story to my buddy Necrostein (he HATED being called Tracy). Sorry you didn’t get to read it my friend. Hopefully wherever you are you’re giving them your own brand of hell.
Chapter 1
She ran through the woods, rocks and sticks cutting into her bare feet. Looking back, she seemed to have lost them. Either that or they wanted her to think she had. One thing she’d learned during her captivity was they could easily move about the wilderness undetected. They were like wolves. They lurked in plain sight, stalking their prey. You only knew of their presence when they decided to make themselves known. She couldn’t think about that right now. The only thing she could think of was escape.
Wait! What was that? She stopped and listened, but it was gone. Continuing to run, she ignored the blood caked on the bottom of her feet. Her left big toe throbbed from the nail having been ripped off earlier. It was amazing she could even walk, but the thought of escape gave her new life. Up until a few hours ago, she had all but given up hope and was awaiting her death. There was that sound again. She stopped and listened. There it was! It was a car and not far away.
She took off running in the direction of the sound, ignoring the pain shooting through her feet, legs and hips. Soon, she was clear of the trees and brush. There at the bottom of the hill was the highway. She tried to make her way down the hill, but the ground was hot and steep. The sun beat down on her naked skin. She could only imagine what level of sunburn she had all over her body.
As she stumbled down the hill, her ankle rolled over a rock. Sharp pain shot through her foot all the way to her head. She cried out as she tumbled to the ground and began rolling down the hill. Pain consumed her body as bones snapped, popped and cracked while she bounced off of rocks and stones, her velocity increasing until finally she struck the bottom of the hill. She was able to raise her head slightly. Through the blurred vision, she could see she was only a dozen feet or so away from the highway. Except she couldn’t move her arms or legs.
Even lifting her head slightly severe pain shot through her neck. The road rumbled as a car sped by.
“Help,” she said just above a whisper. “Please help!” But the car was already vanishing in the distance. She thought back to how the day began. She and her boyfriend on a trip to Mexico for the weekend. They had just returned and were headed back home to El Paso when their tires went flat. All of them at once. It didn’t take long for her to realize it was a trap. Especially when the nice couple showed up offering to help.
The man was young and handsome. The girl was cute and friendly. Both made small talk before offering them a ride.
“Hi!” the girl had said to them. “My name is Livia!” The girl was short, with huge bright eyes, brown hair, and wearing a black cowgirl hat.
“Hi Olivia, I’m Brandy.”
“Not O-livia. Just Livia! That’s me!”
“Oh. Sorry, Livia. Nice to meet you.”
“I’m Oz,” the man said without looking back.
“Clint. Hi,” Brandy’s boyfriend said. That was the nicest part of the trip. Over the next several hours, they were driven to some freak town up in the hills. Both of them had been assaulted and separated. Brandy woke up tied to several posts and stripped naked. She had been beaten and raped repeatedly. It seemed like she was the town booty call. Every few minutes a new guy would appear and have at her. None of them were gentle either. One guy liked punching her in the face as he fucked her. She had no idea how many of her own teeth she’d swallowed.
After the fourth or fifth one, everything became a blur. Next thing she remembered was one of the men had untied her so he could fling her around the room. She couldn’t even see him most the time. Her stringy blonde curls hung in her face as he grabbed a handful of her locks and pushed her head down, forcing her to give him oral sex. His cock was large and misshapen. There were also clusters of warts protruding from the tip and all along the shaft.
She stopped several times to gag, but he just punched her in the face and forced her back onto himself. While she tried to blow him, Livia appeared in the doorway.
“Oh look at that!” Livia said. “You trying to prove to everyone that you’re not a faggot?”
“I ain’t no faggot, woman!”
“Right. That’s why you always look at the boys while they bathin’ in the pond.”
“Shut the fuck up. Get outta here. It’s my turn to fuck the bitch.”
“I can watch anytime I want.”
“The fuck you can.”
“The fuck I will. You got a problem, you take it up with Oz.”
“Shit,” he said as he stepped away from Brandy. Brandy took a deep breath her mouth now free of the hideous appendage. “Fuckin’ Oz is scared of you.” Before she could relax, he kicked her in the chest, knocking her backward. Brandy lay there gasping for air as the man and Livia walked out of the room.
“I bet you didn’t even cum, faggot,” she said as they walked away.
“Hard to get off when your dumb ass is standing there yacking away.”
The rest of their conversation trailed off as Brandy lay there. It took her a minute to realize the guy hadn’t tied her back up, and he’d left the door open. She wondered why, and at first thought it was some kind of trap. She staggered to her feet and looked her nude body over. She was covered with cuts, scrapes, bruises, and cigarette burns. Looking out the open door, she realized there was no one in sight. Without another thought, she broke for the trees.
That felt like eons ago. Truth was, it was maybe an hour or so. Maybe she should have stayed there. Now she was just lying there, bloody and broken. She hoped she’d just pass out soon and die of heat exhaustion. Just fall asleep and never wake up again. That would be the best way. Either that or a coyote could come up and just rip out her jugular. That may hurt, but only for a few seconds. Another car came rolling up. This was a white F-150. A familiar looking one. A sinking feeling swirled in the pit of her stomach as it pulled to a stop and the door opened.
She saw a boot appear in front of her when Livia knelt down and looked her in the face.
“You stupid bitch. You thought you could get away?” Livia said. She waited a minute as if she were expecting Brandy to respond, but she had lost any remaining will to fight, speak or live the moment the woman pulled up. “You can’t get away, hun. No one gets away from Hell, Texas.”
Chapter 2
Cole steered the pickup truck through t
he empty El Paso streets. This early in the morning, hardly any cars were out. That would change in the next few hours. This is why Cole needed to be efficient. In his town’s old days, no one would dare venture this far into the city except for those authorized for supplies. That was the old Hell. This was a new generation of Hellions.
As he sat at a light, he looked around at people just starting to come outside, wheeling their trash bins to the curb. He’d started to wonder if he should have just stolen a garbage truck. Maybe that would be easier to blend in. Maybe not. They were too big and moved too slow. If the cops did catch onto him, he’d be fucked. This job was far too important to risk on a gimmick. Better to stick with the tried and true methods.
After making a left turn and circling around, he pulled up and stopped just down the street from the bus stop. He had some time before they came out, so he’d wait. He reached into the glove box, removed a ham sandwich, and took a bite. It was dry and plain since it lacked condiments but it would satisfy his hunger and give him the energy needed for the task at hand. He looked through his bag, and everything he needed was there. A couple of pillowcases and two sets of zip ties. There was also a gun if he needed it, but in his previous missions, he’d never had to. The bag contained one other item that would come in handy as well. He always took it along on these kinds of missions.
He looked out the back window and saw the pickup’s tonneau cover was in place. As he ate the sandwich, he thought about what he was about to do. Each time, it reminded him of his first days in Hell. They had told him he wouldn’t remember much with time, but that had been a lie. He remembered everything. Cole had been seven years old and at a park with his grandma. She’d gone to one of the port-a-johns for no more than two minutes when the older woman and man had come and grabbed him.
He tried to scream but the man pulled a gun and pointed it at the port-a-john. He said he’d shoot Cole’s grandmother if he made a sound. So he didn’t. He went with them quietly. They took him back to the small town in the hills. His name back then had been something else. He remembered it but had never spoken it again. Sometimes he wondered how his life would have turned out had he not been taken. Now, as an adult, he was free to come and go as he pleased. Cole definitely could do what he wanted. He was one of the most dangerous residents of Hell. Yet he chose to stay. Where else could he do the one thing he was good at?
A few times he had driven by his old family’s home just out of curiosity. The El Paso paper years before had said he was presumed dead. They held a funeral for him and everything. This was another reason he never went back. He was a ghost. No point in causing everyone more upset and heartache. At least not to his own long lost family. He would cause dozens of other families the same pain, however.
He finished the sandwich and took out the soda, popping the top. By now it was piss warm, but he didn’t care. He slammed the soda in a few gulps when he saw them walking outside. The two boys had arrived at the usual time to their bus stop. The oldest boy was Jimmy Ray, age nine. His younger brother was Tommy, age six. Cole had been watching them for weeks. Their mom was single and dropped them off at the bus stop before heading to her job at a nearby restaurant.
At first, Cole wondered why she didn’t just take them straight to school. But school was fifteen minutes in the other direction from her work. He could see why she’d do it this way. She usually walked them outside to wait for the bus minutes before it arrived. Some days she waited with them, but not usually. This was one of those days. She kissed them each on the forehead before getting into her car and driving away. Looking at his watch, he had about three minutes before the school bus arrived.
Once mom was gone, he put the truck in gear and came around the corner. He pulled up right in front of the bus stop and hopped out with the bag.
“Hi boys,” he said. The two just looked at him, halfway confused and the other half annoyed. “Sorry to bother you before school. I was wondering if you could help me with something.”
The little one looked at his older brother who shook his head.
“We’re not supposed to talk to stRangers,” he said.
“That’s right. That’s good. Very good. But you don’t have to worry. No talking is involved. I just want to show you something is all.”
He unzipped the bag as both kids leaned in to see what he had. Cole reached in and took out the other items he’d brought. A small puppy. Cole wasn’t even sure what breed it was. It was only a few months old, but he made sure to bring one along anytime he dealt with kids. Both boys’ eyes lit up as Cole held it up.
“Oh wow! A Puppy!” Jimmy said. “Can we pet him?”
“Of course you can,” Cole said and handed the puppy to the older boy. Jimmy leaned in to pet the dog as well. While they played with the dog, Cole picked up the bag and stepped behind them. First he leaned over and petted the dog also. Seconds later, he took out the pillow case and slid it quickly over both boys’ heads. They cried out in surprise as they dropped the puppy who yelped as he hit the sidewalk.
Cole threw both boys to the ground, zip-tied both their hands behind their backs and threw them into the bed of the truck, locking the tonneau cover into place. Before climbing back into the cab, he picked up the puppy and held it to him, petting it.
“There, there,” he said. “Sorry to scare you, little guy. You’ll be fine. Everything is fine.” He placed the puppy back into the bag and slid into the driver’s side. Just as he pulled away, the school bus came around the corner, driving right past his truck and the stop from which it would normally have picked up the brothers.
Chapter 3
Texas Ranger Garrett Parker sat at his desk looking over his recent report. He’d just closed out a double homicide involving a sheriff’s deputy near Tarrant County. In a drunken fight, he’d shot and killed his wife and her brother. Except the brother had had a knife. The case was a mess, but the deputy was being charged with one count of manslaughter. The shooting of the brother-in-law was self-defense, but the wife was hit by a stray bullet. Because he’d been drinking, his actions had been reckless. Tragic story all around.
He’d just put the report down and jotted some notes to the side to fix later when there was a knock at the door. Looking up, he saw it was his boss, Lt. Manuel Reyes. Manuel had been a Ranger almost twenty years. Garrett had been a police officer for twenty-five years, but only twelve of those as a Ranger.
“Hey, Garrett. You got a minute?” Manuel said.
“Sure LT. What’s going on?”
Manuel stepped inside and handed Garret a newspaper. Manuel was one of the few people Garrett knew who still read a physical newspaper. The man was set in his ways, to say the least.
“Take a look at this. I’ve been following these,” Manuel said.
Garrett looked it over. A couple young boys were kidnapped in broad daylight from a bus stop in El Paso.
“Damn. Yeah, this sucks for sure. But why are you showing me? You want me to work it?”
“Look at these, too.”
He handed him a folder containing a stack of articles. There were more than thirty of them. All involved disappearances of children, teens and young adults from both El Paso and Las Cruces, New Mexico over the past five years.
“So what are you saying, Manuel? You think these are all connected?”
“I think it’s worth looking into.”
“You think it’s like the Juarez killings? Like they are moving across the border?” Garrett asked.
From 1995 to 2003 there were hundreds of young women in Ciudad Juarez, Mexico. Some were attributed to serial killers while others to cartels, human trafficking, and various other organized crimes. Over the years, the killings had slowed down, but they still occurred.
“I don’t know. No bodies are being found. Nothing is being found. Look at this one.”
Manuel took out an article about a college age couple who had been traveling from El Paso to Austin but never made it to Austin. The only trace of anything was the girl’
s charm bracelet, with her name inscribed, found alongside the road about a hundred miles outside of El Paso. A DPS trooper had found it on a traffic stop. Garrett looked the articles over and set them back down.
“So it would seem they never made it further than that spot,” he said.
“That’s what it looks like.”
Garrett slid back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. He had a feeling he knew what Manuel was thinking, but didn’t want to even entertain the possibility.
“I know you know what I’m thinking,” Manuel said.
“That’s impossible. We wiped that place out.” Garrett stood and walked to the window, looking outside. “We fucking exterminated them.”
“I know. Or I thought I knew. What else would it be?”
“What exactly do you want me to do?”
“You know that terrain. You know the people in that community. I want you to check it out.”
“It could be anything, you know. Human traffickers, cartels, or Hell, maybe even a serial killer.”
“I know, Garrett. And you’re probably right and it probably is. That’s why I just want you to take a look. Head out there, take a few days, and see what you can find. I’ll let local law enforcement know you’re coming. I’m sure they want answers as much as anyone.”
“Jesus Christ, Manuel. I just cleared this nightmare of a fucking case in Tarrant County. I was supposed to go on vacation next week. My wife wanted me to take her to Vegas.”
“I know, I know. Just one more week. Look at these boys. One was seven, and the other nine. You have two girls don’t you? Around the same age?”
That motherfucker.
“Yes. One is six the other seven.”
“Ok then.”
“If you say this could happen to them, Manuel, God help me…”
“No, no. Not at all. I just want you to think of the parents, how they must feel. Sometimes you’re so clinical about this stuff, I wonder if it fazes you at all.”
