by R. K. Latch
A shadow passed over the sheet and Gabby turned, startled.
Unfortunately, she was a bit too slow to respond. A hand slapped her hard across the face, bringing tears to her eyes. Gabby was no delicate flower, and she balled her hand into a fist. Before she could launch her assault, another strike spun her half around. She tasted blood in her mouth. Pain stars erupted in her vision. Whoever was attacking her was behind her and she could not see them.
All of a sudden, she was thrown to the ground and a great weight settled on her back and a hand clamped tightly over her mouth, muffling a scream for help that she just now had the presence of mind to attempt. It was a weak sound that she could barely hear, so surely it would do no good.
“Dad gum, you look good today,” a voice said into her ear. “Good enough to eat, I’d say.” The voice rode in on a stench of rotten eggs and stale cigarettes. She knew the voice, though she’d only heard it once, just last week. Vernon, the electrician Halsey’s helper. A slow, repugnant, nasty specimen of a man. He’d worn a sweat stained tee shirt and a shabby hat and leered at Gabby. She could tell right away he was a creep but had considered him harmless enough. How wrong she had been was swiftly becoming clear.
She promised Luthor she’d have the electrical work done while he worked as she was accustomed to such things. She hadn’t liked Vernon from the start. Halsey had been with him but in the few rare instances it had been just she and Vernon, she’d felt his eyes creeping across her skin.
She tried to speak, but it was nothing but mumbles from his thick hand. She tried to fight, but he had his full weight on her, and her hands were pinned beneath her. He was a corpulent son of a bitch, and not in fighting shape. It had been smart for him to sneak up on her or she would have demolished him.
But that line of thinking would do her no good. He had the upper hand and unless she was greatly mistaken, she knew what he wanted, and she was not about to give it without a fight.
She felt his hand as it slowly stroked up her side. She shivered in repulsion. He didn’t seem to notice. The hand continued on until it reached just under her arm and then Vernon thrust it under her, cupping her right breast in his hand.
“That’s real nice right there, doll face. Uncle Vernon likes.” His voice was that of a toad if gifted with the ability of speech, low and slimy sounding.
Hearing him, not in her ear, but right behind her, she closed her eyes and thrust her head backwards with everything she had. The crash of skull to bones was satisfying. Suddenly, while he was still on her, his center of gravity shifted, and she made her move.
Gabby rolled and fat old Vernon fell off and she moved fast then. She was up on her feet, turning away. If she could get into the house, she could arm herself and come back out and take care of this cretin. Gabby had no way to know where her headbutt had struck. It didn’t matter, it had gotten him off her and she couldn’t expect it to keep him down long. That would have to be good enough.
“Bitch,” he spat. He was already back on his feet and Gabby was sprinting right past him. He grabbed her by the hair of the head, hard. She screamed out in pain as it felt as if every hair on her head was ripped straight out by the root. He slammed her back to the ground much too easily.
She landed on her back and the impact knocked the wind from her. She had no time to react. He raised a foot above her. “You’re gonna pay for that, wench” he said, and he kept his promise.
+++
The morning had been a wash. Luthor could not get his mind right. He played out last night’s events over and over in his mind. He’d met with a few clients but was distracted and ended the meetings as quickly as he could, begging off in one case due to a sour stomach.
His office was not large, but it was decorated in a style that would put you in the mind of a southern judge. Highly polished wooden furniture, most made by his own hand, and bookshelves, that he’d assembled here in the office were laden with leather bound tomes. Across the windows facing east, wide slatted blinds kept out much of the morning sun. The lamps all matched and had globes of frosted glass. Gabby had chosen those, and he liked them well enough, though he might have selected a different style.
Last night played through his mind again and again.
Disposing of the vagrant’s body had been easy enough. It had taken him a little over two hours to drive out to a hidden location and back. While you could never be sure if anyone would ever come across a body, Luthor had left the hobo in such a state, he was little worried about anyone tracing it back to him.
That was not what kept his mind busy that Monday morning. He was ashamed of how he’d acted this morning at breakfast. He’d been angry, as he had been last night, with his wife. Never before had he felt such rage directed at her. To Luthor, it was not unjustified, but that didn’t change the fact that he’d vowed to treat her, and only her, as an equal for the entirety of their lives. It was the only way a relationship like theirs worked. There had to be absolute trust, absolute obedience to each other.
They could not exist without each other. He knew that. Yes, they had before they’d met, but their relationship had changed them both on a fundamental level and he loved her immensely. This from a man that thought love was a fool’s notion, a poet’s device, a madman’s solace.
That little bastard Wade had caused all this, Luthor thought. If not for him, Luthor and Gabby would have selected a different plaything for the weekend, Luthor would have disposed of the body and things would be grand, as they always were. If she’d allowed him to snuff out the boy, things too, would have been grand.
But no, she had come between him and the child. The dirty, uncouth child that Luthor had thought he’d bring into their fold. Damn it, it was Luthor’s fault. Maybe that’s why his anger had risen to such heights. It was all his fault, and he could blame anyone he wanted but that did not change the fact that Luthor himself was the root of it all.
He knew Gabrielle was not sleeping when he returned last night. Instead of trying to speak to her, to talk about what had happened, he’d rolled over and went to sleep.
She’d been up, chipper, and happy this morning, and like a dark cloud, he’d stolen her sunshine. He’d not even kissed her goodbye.
These things bothered him greatly. Without ever agreeing to it in so many words, neither Luthor or Gabrielle had gone to bed or left one another’s side so angry. This world was a crazy, cruel place that never hesitated to snatch the rug out from under you just as you were satisfied and fulfilled with life. Luthor had forgotten that. Nothing should be left unsaid or undone. The chance to do so may never present itself again.
Luthor glanced at the clock on his office wall. It was almost noon. Lunch was in order. Gabrielle as usual, had packed him lunch, but that would not do today. No, he would go home and in his own way, apologize for his behavior. Perhaps he could even persuade her that dealing with the boy would be to their mutual benefit. One never knew, all manner of things were possible when tempers cool.
Yes. He would head home for an hour or maybe two. Perhaps they might end up in bed, seeing as how they’d skipped out on the carnal portion of their amusements last night. He would let her know that even though he’d been angry, he still loved her, and he would not stop his search for a child if that was what she really wanted.
He stood and took one step toward his door as Martha, his secretary pushed the heavy wooden monstrosity—which he had not made himself—open, and ushered in Mrs. Henrietta Gaines, sobbing, and weeping uncontrollably. She was the wife of one of Luthor’s oldest and best clients, Davidson Gaines. “Mr. Duncan, I’m so sorry, but I need to speak with you please. It’s…” she took a moment to cry some more and Luthor rolled his eyes, so Martha couldn’t see. “Important,” she finished.
Luthor, sure it was not, in fact, important, at least to him at this very moment, did not throw out decorum and directed her to a chair in front of his desk.
It looked as if lunch might have to wait.
Chapter 16
; The closer Wade got to the edge of the shed the surer he was he would make a clean getaway. He’d thought about this moment since his first moments thrown into the cage, the filthy cage with no bathroom, where he could not stand, and his body even now ached and pained him because of the cramped quarters.
He looked out over the open ground. He didn’t know how far the expanse was, he wasn’t good with measurements. He knew inches and feet, but anything beyond that was Greek to him. And there was no way he could estimate the amount of feet the open ground was. That too, was beyond him. He could make it, though. He had to make it.
He was sad everything had turned out this way. Despite the horrors he’d witnessed since arriving, despite the cruelty they’d shown him at last, he had hoped he’d found his place with Luthor and Gabrielle. For a fleeting moment, he honestly believed he’d found his place, his spot in life.
As always was the case, he had been terribly wrong.
He would learn from this. There was no place for him. No. There was nothing but Wade against the world. All that crap Mr. Duncan had said about sheep and wolves was so much garbage. He was a kid nobody wanted. He would have to live with that and live through that.
One day he would be a man and he would be able to step out of the shadows, no longer eating out of trash bins, no longer hiding from the police and underbelly of the world. But that time was not yet here.
From the shed to tree line that marked the edge of the Duncan land he would be exposed, but he felt his chances were good. Just beyond the trees, was a large field.
Wade reaffirmed his grip on the handsaw, took a deep breath and…
A woman’s scream tore through the hot still day. It was shrill and terrified, and he knew exactly who it belonged to.
+++
Gabrielle Duncan was a wet noodle. Her muscles were limp and rubbery. She couldn’t even make a fist. Two kicks to her ribs with Vernon’s heavy work boots and she couldn’t take a breath without pain, hot and as lancing as lightning shooting up her. She could not make a fist; she could scream no more. This bastard had taken her out of commission in a matter of moments.
And he was far from finished.
“Sorry about that. Had to soften you up a little,” Vernon laughed. His laugh was deep and crunchy, his lungs rattled. Still, he was strong. He was pulling her by her arm to the back porch. She worked her legs in rebellion, but it failed to hamper him. “Like a piece of meat, tenderized.”
With her mind, she said ‘Let me go’, but with her mouth it was a breathless whisper of nothing. If he’d just let her be for a minute, she could recover. She supposed he knew that. Already at the back porch, he reached down and with one hand around her waist, and another around her neck, roughly manhandled her up on the porch, not quite strong enough to toss her up.
The wooden floor was unforgiving as she landed on her side, and another pain shot up through her. She managed to move, just a little, but he belted her again, this time with a fist and her entire mouth went numb as teeth cracked.
“Stop,” she said, this time getting the word out over a numb tongue, but it was thick and low. He looked down at her as she rolled. His face was a mask of sadistic arousal.
Apparently, the back porch was his ideal spot for lovemaking as he began working at his belt. His trousers dropped to his knees.
Gabby started shaking her head, trying to raise her hands in self-defense.
“You just be quiet now, be still. Ole Vernon gonna show you something. You might just like it.”
“No,” she said. “Don’t.”
He laughed and pulled her dress up over her face. She was thankful she could no longer see his face. She felt the heat of direct sunlight on her legs.
“Ooh wee, doll. That’s it. Right there.”
She didn’t cry. She couldn’t. She’d been here many times before. Sometimes for money, sometimes for free, sometimes just because she was weaker than the one that took her. It was awful and it was painful, and it was about the most shameful thing in the world, but she would live.
She felt rough hands on her legs, rubbing up them. He wasn’t talking anymore. She still could not move. She was dazed but also in shock.
Vernon pushed four fingers behind the waistband of her panties and yanked them down. Gabby bit her lip so hard she could think of nothing else.
+++
From the corner of the shed, Wade saw it all unfold. Some rough looking fella knocked Gabby to the ground and kicked her hard. He almost ran to help, but he did not. He stopped in his tracks.
This was his chance. This was an easy pass for him. Neither Gabby nor the man would see him if he ran now. He would be in the wind and no one the wiser.
He did not run away. He could not. Wade watched as the man with the big gut pushed her up on the back porch. The hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up.
Wade felt the impact as the man clobbered Gabby with an awful right hook. The man was big and large but looked woefully out of shape. Yet that punch would have staggered the toughest of men.
He knew what the man intended even before he went for the belt on his trousers.
Wade, despite his overly honed survival instinct, still could flee. Yet, he still did not. He would not be standing here if not for the woman laying defenseless on the back porch. For all intents and purposes, she had saved his life last night. He remembered the way she’d put herself between he and Luthor. He could have ended her as easily as he had Larry. But he did not, of course, because she was his wife.
Did that really matter? To a man like Luthor Duncan did that matter? It had to because he had not put a finger on her and spared young Wade. For how long, he did not know. But she had saved him last night. She had gone against her husband for him. For a kid she didn’t even really know.
It was the first time he could remember any kindness shown to him for no other reason than mercy.
Wade was a worthless beggar. He knew that and he probably always would be. But that woman had saved his life and had not come back to gloat, to give demands. No, she had risked harm to herself. Maybe knew Luthor would not hurt her, but that was still a huge chance to take for him.
Everyone in this world had turned their back on him. Even his very own mother.
This woman had not.
Wade tightened his grip on the saw and ground his teeth together.
+++
Vernon was above her. He blocked the light, but she could not see his face through the dress. His hands were tight on her thighs as he pulled himself closer to her down there. She was breathing fast and shallow, hyperventilating, remembering those days long before when she’d suffered a fate like this. She’d bit almost completely through her lip, but it no longer held her attention.
“Just a minute, he said. Just a minute.” She felt him rubbing himself against her. His flaccid self. He could not even get hard for this. But she was far from relieved. She knew that nothing drove a man crazier than his own inadequacies and he would not blame himself. No, he would blame her. His grip grew tighter on her thighs.
The only thought she could coherently form kept her buoyed to the here and now instead of complete slipping into insanity was Luthor’s vengeance. She knew that when Luthor found her, he would make this man pay and she would help. Yes, she would help. Let him do his worst, she thought. It would not hold a candle to what lay in store for him.
But she had to get through what came next first.
Then, Vernon jerked. The grip tightened ten-fold on her thighs and a gasp escaped her, but then, oddly, that iron grip loosened, and the man screamed something awful, much like a wounded dog yelping.
“You little bastard,” he said roughly.
What? She thought. A little strength flowed back through her, and she threw her dress down out of her face.
She couldn’t believe her eyes. On the grass, just in front of her, Vernon staggered away from her, pants still around his ankles, so he took small, measured steps. From his back, low and off to the side, a small lengt
h of wood protruded, and deep crimson blossomed out from it. She knew every vital organ had been missed. He swatted at Wade.
Wade! What was he doing here? How had he gotten free?
None of that mattered now. She sized up this situation quickly and though she thought it impossible, came to her feet. Her body felt like she weighed five hundred pounds, but she pushed hard and found she could walk.
Vernon, having rounded on Wade, swatted wildly but in an amazing display of luck, knocked the boy down and was now lumbering over him. Gabby made her move.
“You little fucker,” Vernon said. “You’ll pay for this.”
“No, he won’t,” Gabby said, through a bloody, broken mouth. Vernon heard her anyway and turned, slowly but surely. His eyes grew wide when he saw her, but he was too slow to react. “But you will.”
Gabrielle was no weakling and her wherewithal was now returning. She struck out fast as a rattlesnake with a fist to his nose. It broke instantly and blood flowed from nostrils and tears flooded his eyes. She wasn’t done, however and moved to him and with a knee to his sick little grey worm of a cock, put him down to his knees.
Wade looked at her, his eyes wide, his body trembling.
She swiped blood from her bleeding mouth and wiped it on her dress.
She looked at Wade and he continued looking at her, looking like a scared, little boy. A scared, little boy that could have just ran away, but risked his own safety to stop the trash at her feet.
She held out a hand to him. He hesitated, looked as if he was going to cry, then came to her, evading her hand. Instead, he hugged her tightly around her hips. Her ribs screamed in pain, but she didn’t care. The hug felt wonderful.