The End The Beginning (Humanity's New Dawn Book 1)

by Ryan Horvath

  Art unbuttoned her shorts while still holding gently on to her neck. He wanted her alive. He used his toes to pry her shoes from her feet. He yanked the shorts down and off the bitch woman and kicked them into some scrub.

  “No panties?” he said with genuine surprise. “You’re making this too easy.”

  Art set the bitch woman on her feet, spun her around, and bent her over a large boulder. He pressed one hand on her back, holding her down. With his other hand, he unfastened his pants, allowed them to drop to his ankles and stepped out of them. While he did this, he let his erection brush against her bottom and thighs, trailing his pre-seminal fluid across her skin.

  The bitch woman whimpered, whined, cried, struggled, and resisted but she could not break Art’s hold on her. Her raw dismay and intransigence did what Art always expected them to do: they fueled him.

  He steadied himself, took hold of the base of his manhood and did what he’d been waiting so long to do. He thrust himself into her. She squealed and he sharply slapped her bottom, causing her to squeal more. He thrust and withdrew rapidly from her. He had only been in her about a minute and he could already feel his orgasm building. Her warmth and wetness quickly caused him to accelerate his pace.

  So did her screams.

  Amanda struggled desperately as the killer dragged her away from the Honda and Brian’s dead body and into the trees. She wanted to scream but he had her by the neck and no words would come out. She wanted to run but his grip was impossible for her to break away from.

  Then he was stripping her and tying her hands. She still tried screaming but only faint whimpers escaped her. Tears poured from her eyes as he tore open her bra and then removed her shorts.

  “No panties?” the killer said with wide anxious eyes. “You’re making this too easy.” Amanda chastised herself for this omission on this of all days. It hadn’t, after all, been deliberate. She just didn’t have anything clean.

  She was spun around by the killer and he bent her over a hard boulder. The skin of the rock scraped against hers.

  Then, horribly, she felt it; felt him against the soft skin on her backside. Then worse, he was dripping his pre-seminal fluid on her again.

  Amanda gave one last struggled attempt to break free and failed. Her failure rewarded her with a searing sensation between her legs as the killer drove himself inside of her. She squealed loudly at this and he slapped her bottom so hard that her ass and eyes both stung. As she fought against him, he increased the pace of his painful invasion. It felt to her like he was swelling inside her and the pain intensified.

  How long has this attack gone on? Amanda wondered. A minute? An hour? A lifetime?

  The weapon, the knife-sword-hacker-whacker-bushwhacker from the God damn movie flashed before her eyes. What she would do if she had one at this very moment!

  Ian’s face came to her next and she wondered if she would ever be the same for him again.

  The killer continued to thrust, his grunts and groans invaded Amanda’s ears. In reality, he had been raping her for almost a minute.

  Amanda savagely tried to hold on to her humanity while she felt him ripping it from her.

  Karen ran after Blaze around a blind corner in the service road. Her heart banged so loudly in her ears that she couldn’t hear Jack shouting from behind her. She rounded the corner and saw Ian’s Honda stopped in the distance in the road maybe fifteen hundred feet away. It was canted at an angle and something was lying next to it. Blaze was a few yards ahead of Karen and he turned and barked at her.

  “He has Amanda!” the bark said.

  Tears ran from Karen’s eyes as she recalled the vision of the killer raping her sister. She had desperately hoped the vision would not come to pass with the killer being dead but her hopes had gone unanswered.

  “C’mon!” Blaze barked and dashed toward the car.

  Karen stepped up her pace and followed Blaze when he went into a nearby stand of trees. Soon she found Blaze standing at the edge of a clearing. His teeth were bared, his hackles were raised, and he was growling.

  “You killed my Master George and Master Ann,” Karen heard from the fierce growl.

  When she stood, out of breath, next to Blaze, she took in the scene. It was exactly as she had seen it in her vision.

  Out of breath or not, she realized, if she wanted to save her sister, she had to act.

  “There,” Blaze said through a snarl.

  He had indicated a decent sized rock.

  Karen picked it up and they both moved forward.

  “This way,” River said and darted into the trees. Jack was right behind her and he could hear Simon and Ian not far behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something lying by the car but he didn’t want to chance losing River.

  Brian and Amanda are in trouble. I’ve got to get to them Jack thought and followed the cat into the trees.

  “Just grab something!” Ian shouted. “Hurry!”

  Simon grabbed the closest weapon. It was the newer Mossberg shot gun.

  Ian snatched the third hand gun, the second gun left by the man Brian had killed back in Minnesota, and also grabbed the machete Jack and Brian had taken from that man’s car.

  They raced down the road after their friends.

  They weren’t far behind Jack and saw him dart into the trees.

  They followed him in.

  Art felt a sharp and recognizable pain in his left calf.

  The God damn spotted mongrel was on him again.

  “You rabid flea ridden little fuck,” Art snapped. He tried to kick at the beast but the thing moved. The kick caused Art to withdraw from the sweet warmth of the bitch woman, who slunk away.

  Then the beast was on him again, its teeth sunk in a new place. Pain scorched up Art’s leg from the bites.

  Art kicked at the snarling beast again and this time connected with its shoulder but the awkward angle of trying to kick behind himself and at an angle caused his kick to connect with less force than he’d hoped. It was, however, sufficient to dislodge the mongrel. The beast yelped and limped away.

  “Bastard!” Art heard someone shout and almost immediately he felt something smash into his head followed by sharp pains across his back that told him one thing.

  The beshitting cat was back.

  “Bastard!” Karen shouted at the killer as she saw Blaze slink away from him. She threw the rock she had picked up as hard as she could at the killer’s head. As she released her rock, she saw a ball of dark fur race past her. Her rock connected with the back of the killer’s head just as the fur launched into the air toward the killer.

  River dashed past Karen and leapt onto the giant man’s back. She sunk her sharp claws deep into his flesh and he howled in pain.

  “Fucking flea bag,” the giant man said as he tried to reach her.

  River dug deep into and slashed savagely at the giant man’s bare flesh. She hissed angrily and spat at him while she attacked but he finally managed to snag her by her tail. He pried her from his back and she made sure to bring as much of his flesh with her as she could. The pain she felt from the giant man pulling her off was like nothing she had ever experienced before.

  The giant man flung River away and she flew uncontrollably about twenty feet where she landed hard in the remains of a fallen tree.

  She had nearly been impaled by one of the branches.

  As it was, she laid impossibly still.

  Karen picked up the rock she had hit the killer with and dashed to him. She jumped on his bloody back and fought to hold on against his thrashing. She raised the rock, meaning to brain him.

  The killer backed up and into a tree. Karen felt ribs crack in her chest and she let go of the killer and fell to the ground.

  As consciousness slipped from her, she saw him standing nude above her.

  “You’ll get your turn,” the killer said.

  Jack entered the clearing in time to see Karen fall to the ground. Brian, River, and Blaze were nowhere to be found.


  The killer was naked and blood seeped from his leg, head, and back.

  Jack noticed Amanda lying on the ground near a boulder. She too was naked and an ugly hand shaped bruise was partially visible on her backside.

  “Jesus,” Jack said and he moved to the bound woman.

  He heard Ian and Simon enter behind him, heard them shout, and heard gunfire.

  “So sorry, Jack,” he heard Amanda croak over the gunfire.

  “So sorry, Jack,” was all Amanda could say when Jack reached her and began untying her. The physical and emotional pain she felt from her violation was put aside while she tried to give her condolences.

  “It’s all right,” Jack told her. Her hands were free now.

  “So sorry, Jack. I think he’s dead,” Amanda told him.

  “What?” Jack shouted as he helped her to her feet.

  “Step away from her!” Simon shouted at the killer who was hovering over Karen’s body. He had drawn the shot gun on the naked man. Ian held his gun in front of him.

  “Fuck you!” the killer spat back. “You’re nothing!”

  Art charged the two men with the guns. One was the infernal Dr. Shepherd and the other was a man who should have been dead; a man Art had counted as his most recent kill.

  The men shouted at him to stop but Art would not be swayed. He had had it with these people and they would die.

  The men opened fire. Art did not fear the hand gun but the shot gun could be problematic. He felt small caliber bullets sting his flesh in places on his arms, legs, and torso but more of Turner’s shots missed than hit. Art rolled out of the way of Shepherd’s shot gun blast and then rolled toward the doctor while he tried to line up his sight on him again. The doctor was far too slow for Art and he leapt up from his roll and backhanded the doctor, who flew over to the rock Art had been using as his rape stand, slid across it, and landed on the other side. Art did not see the doctor get up but he did see that Voight fuck was helping the bitch woman.

  “I don’t think so, asshole.” Art said and bared his teeth at Voight. “She’s mine.”

  Ian heard the killer speak in a malicious voice to Jack.

  “I don’t think so, asshole. She’s mine!” the killer said.

  Fire lit in Ian’s guts. Judging from the look of Amanda, the killer had probably raped her. Ian refused to let the man anywhere near her again. He looked at the gun in his right hand. Its magazine was empty and he’d failed to grab a backup. In his left, he held the machete. As the killer moved toward Jack and Amanda, Ian stepped between them and raised the machete.

  “No, I don’t think so. This ends now,” he said firmly.

  The killer advanced on him and Ian wasn’t fast enough. The killer had him by the neck and lifted Ian off the ground. The machete dropped away before Ian could try to use it. Ian could feel his airways closing beneath the killer’s grip.

  “I thought I killed you,” the killer said and Ian felt the grip loosen slightly. It seemed the killer wanted Ian to respond.

  “Could say… same…‘bout you… asshole,” Ian choked out but then the killer tightened his grip. In seconds, Ian’s neck would be crushed.

  Amanda saw the blade drop from Ian’s hand. It was the thing she had been seeing. She’d been a fool not to recognize a vision. She pulled away from a protesting Jack who was frantic about what she had just said.

  The monster who had just raped her was distracted with Ian.

  As she quietly approached the weapon she heard the rapist say, “I thought I killed you.”

  And she heard Ian’s choking response, “Could say the same ‘bout you asshole.”

  Amanda reached the blade and picked it up.

  “Machete, you fuck!” And she struck.

  Art felt blinding pain in his right shoulder and he was surprised to see Turner fall from his hand with Art powerless to stop it. He turned and looked at his arm. A blade had nearly severed the limb entirely off.

  He saw the bitch woman holding the blade. Anger, hatred, and defiance flared in her eyes.

  Art howled in agony as the bitch woman pulled the blade from his arm but before he could move, the bitch woman struck again.

  Art saw the world turn upside down and watched as his head fell from his body. He saw the ground as his head rolled. He tried to speak but his mouth was no longer connected to vocal cords. He tried to breath but his nostrils were no longer connected to lungs. When his head stopped rolling, he saw his body fall to the ground a few feet away from where his head rested. The bitch woman stood naked over it with a bloody machete, his machete, the very one he’d nearly killed her with, in her hands.

  He saw triumph on her face.

  Then he saw no more.

  77

  AFTERMATH

  Jack watched Amanda as she stood triumphantly over Christopher Miste’s body. The insane-back-from-the-dead-killer’s head had rolled to a rest six or seven feet from where his naked body slumped to the ground with blood pouring from his neck. It appeared he and Amanda were the only ones left on their feet with Ian joining them in forming a trio of conscious people. He could see Simon’s outstretched arm behind the boulder he had found Amanda next to. Karen sat, unconscious, maybe dead, on the ground against a tree. Blaze, River, and Brian were nowhere to be found.

  Amanda didn’t repeat what she had last said to Jack before she moved on the killer with the machete and Jack prayed he had misheard her. He moved toward Amanda.

  “Amanda?” he said, trying not to alarm her, and maybe get his head chopped off as well.

  She looked at him and Jack saw triumph and shame; satisfaction and humiliation.

  “It’s okay. It’s me. Jack. It’s okay.” He thought for a moment then added, “You got him.”

  Amanda stared back at Jack for a few seconds before bursting out in laughter.

  Jack did not like the sound of her laughter one bit.

  Ian was working on getting to his feet. His neck was badly bruised from the killer’s grip.

  After fifteen or twenty seconds of the unsettling laughter from Amanda, she said, “You’re fucking right I got him. Sick fuck will stay dead this time.”

  Ian was up and moved to her. “Come here, baby,” he said with a scratchy voice. He opened his arms and she fell into them and burst into loud sobs. She stayed there, and cried loudly for a full minute. When her sobs had subsided, Ian let her go, pulled his T-shirt off and helped Amanda pull it over her head. The shirt didn’t fully cover her so Jack stripped off his shorts, stepped over to the couple, and handed his shorts to Amanda.

  “Here,” Jack said as Amanda accepted the shorts with a trembling hand.

  Amanda noticed Jack’s near nakedness and tried to hand the shorts back. “I couldn’t,” she said with a choked up voice.

  Jack held his hand up. “No, no. I’m fine in the skivvies.”

  “Thank you, Jack,” Ian said as Amanda stepped into the shorts. Jack thought he’d never heard Ian sound more sincere and mature in the entire time he’d known him than with those three words. He also noticed Ian skipped making a play on his name for the second time in as long as he could remember. Jack stared as the bruising on Ian’s neck faded before his eyes. It was hands down one of the most intriguing and awesome things Jack had ever seen in his life.

  “I’m so sorry, Jack,” Amanda said when she was fully dressed.

  “Where is he?” Jack said, fighting back tears of his own now.

  “What? Who?” Ian said looking around. “Brian!”

  “Where is he?” Jack repeated, louder this time.

  Fresh tears were leaking from Amanda’s eyes. “He came up so fast. It was so unexpected.”

  “Where is he?” Jack said for a third time but he looked back in the direction they had all come from and thought he knew the answer. He’d seen something lying next to the car when he’d run in here. Now he realized that the something was a someone.

  Jack dashed out of the trees, not waiting for Amanda to answer.

  “What h
appened to Brian?” Ian said after Jack ran out of the trees.

  “The man,” she nodded to the headless body on the ground. “The monster hit him so hard.” She paused, not wanting to go on. “I don’t… I don’t think he made it. I don’t think anybody could have made it.”

  Ian looked in the direction Jack had departed in. He was torn. He wanted to go to his friends but Amanda needed him with her after what she had just been through. He turned back to her and looked into her eyes. He started crying himself which was something he couldn’t remember doing in a very long time.

  “It was my fault. I should have seen him when I got the tire iron out of the trunk but I was so distracted,” Amanda said and grabbed on to Ian again.

  “No. No,” Ian said soothingly, rubbing Amanda’s hair. “It’s not your fault. None of this is any of our fault.”

  They held each other, both crying for a couple more minutes.

  When his tears had run out, Ian said, “C’mon, let’s go check the others.”

  Sniff sniff sniff

  Hey. Hey cat? What was her name again?

  Hey River? Wake up. C’mon. Wake up. Blaze was standing over the tortoiseshell cat who lay unmoving where she had landed when the giant man had thrown her. He held his right paw up off the ground. He wasn’t sure what happened when the giant bad smelling man had kicked him but it felt better to keep his paw raised.

  Blaze could smell the cat wasn’t dead. He could still taste the giant bad smelling man’s blood in his mouth and he could smell bits of his flesh on the cat’s paws.

  C’mon, River. No more playing. He leaned his head down and dragged his pink tongue across her nose and forehead.

  Instantly, she was awake and alert.

  Hey! Gross! River said.

  Oh good, you’re awake Blaze said. His tail started to sway behind him.