He briefly chuckled, then offered an olive branch of sorts. “Maybe we could be more reasonable. My beef is just with you.”
“You know you're not going to win this, beefcake. My people can outlast you as long as they need to in that bus.”
“They might, but your friends in the tanker might not,” he said, which finally made her snooty grin disappear. “That was pretty clever how you snuck them around us, but we can live without that fuel, and it would be such a terrible way for such a pretty young girl to die.”
The Death Doll fumed. Kenny sopped it up like his late mama's biscuits and gravy.
“You have to face it, darling,” he said as he flashed his cell phone at her, “you can't beat a family with eyes and ears everywhere.”
Her blasted smile reappeared on her slutty mouth. “Unless the ears don't know what to listen to,” she said, then touched her cell phone on her belt and said, “Do it, Isaac,” which he did not hear on his cell phone.
*****
Pat smiled at the sight of the fuel truck’s broken windshield. Behind him, mean old Bart Townsend reloaded his rifle while his underlings Leland Todd and Gus Saffron took turns shooting out the window. Bart yanked the two out of his way and slithered through the window. He was a mean, thick-headed bastard, but he was a useful one.
“Hold onto somethin’,” Bart shouted as he slipped back in and under the table.
Pat looked back and saw the tanker speeding straight at him. He hugged the huge steering wheel in time to absorb the massive shock that rocked the R.V.
Leland and Gus got tossed like clotheslined shirts on a windy day. Bart slid back out of the window with his rifle, but another crash made him drop it.
Pat hit his head on the wheel and nearly lost control. He fought the wheel to stay on the road while the tanker shot past him. He was pissed. He shook off the painful swirling in his head and hit the gas as his last two bikers sped up alongside the semi, each on a different side.
One of them aimed his submachine gun at the driver window, but a big black arm slung out a pistol and shot the dumb son of a bitch. The semi rammed the other, but that one was quick enough to grab onto the side ladder before his bike tumbled off the road. That guy—whatever his name was—climbed atop the tank and ran up to the cabin. He tried sticking his gun in their windshield, but he got yanked in and tossed out in short order.
The passenger door remained open, leaving an opening to get that little bitch riding shotgun.
Pat smiled, then yelled back, “Come take the wheel, Bart.”
Bart cussed him out, then demanded of the other two whelps, “Gimme another ‘un,”
“You had your chance,” Pat shouted. “Now get up here.”
Bart cussed him out again and went into the back room.
Having had enough of the dumbass, Pat ordered Gus to take the wheel, ran to the back of the R.V., and rammed his fist between Bart’s stupid little eyes. He grabbed a shotgun, shoved the barrel down the asshole’s throat, and warned the wannabe cowboy, “Don’t you ever ignore me again.”
The dumbass’ eyes quivered at him like a little boy about to get a whooping.
Pat dropped the sorry son of a bitch and marched toward the open middle window. He shoved Leland’s dumbstruck face through it with the shotgun and ordered him to shoot down those assholes in the tanker, pointing to the open passenger door. Then he yelled up front, “You waiting for an invitation, Gus? Catch them colored bitches.”
The skinny little cuss behind the wheel finally got a clue and sped up.
Pat grabbed one of the fallen rifles and stuck it through the window behind the driver seat. He waited as the R.V. drove up on the tanker, knowing sooner or later that wetback little cunt riding shotgun had to stick her head out if it didn’t already get blown off. He hoped not; he wanted that opportunity. The itch to kill grew into a full-blown lust as they drew closer, loading a weapon he would almost prefer to use on little Rachelle over and over.
She rolled into view and tossed something at him.
He ducked as it shattered the glass over him, then aimed at the little whore with a grin. “Goodbye, bitch,” she said aloud.
“GRENADE,” Leland shouted, making Pat flush with panic.
*****
Rachelle watched with satisfaction as the R.V. exploded. The massive sucker veered off the road and tumbled into empty farm country. It was a waste of a luxury home on wheels, but it was oh, so good to see a couple of homicidal nut jobs get theirs. She closed the door, sat back, and smiled at Isaac.
“Stone cold killer,” Isaac said, patting her shoulder.
Rachelle briefly smiled, but that disappeared as she faced forward. “So, where are we going?”
“Gotta find a place to turn around,” he replied, which surprised her. “What? You heard the woman. We got somewhere to be.”
Rachelle smiled again.
CHAPTER 33
SHOWDOWN IN SIBLEY
“Uh, oh, someone lost their luxury redneck-mobile,” Didi practically sang, barely able to contain her excitement.
“You played me,” Kenny said with his deepest scowl yet.
“I may have had my brains fucked out a lot, but they still work. What's it going to be, cowboy?”
Kenny stared her down like an insect his mother had just told him not to squash, but something in his eyes told her she wasn’t off the hook yet. He drew his sword. “As I said, darlin’, my beef's with you. I’ll even let your people go if you lose. Y’all hear that?” he hollered back. “No matter who wins, they’re free to go.”
Now he had her tempted, but she knew she couldn't trust him. “If that’s true, you shouldn’t have any problem letting them go now.”
“Then you’ll leave, and that would greatly upset me,” he said calmly. Behind him, his people aimed their guns at the bus.
“I've got a clear shot,” Craig said through her earpiece.
Didi drew her sword. “Take it if he cheats. I want a piece of this beefcake.”
Kenny smiled gratefully and charged in with furious strikes. She deflected each one and followed up with a few of her own, but he recovered quickly enough to block and counter with surprising skill. He kept her on a tight defensive, and it was all she could do to follow his fuzzy movements well enough to block.
He halted his assault and took a step back, regarding her with a little surprise. “You're stronger than I thought.”
“You should've seen me dance,” she said, then took another swipe at him. He countered with a few love-taps and one quick attempt to cut off her head. She stumbled backward trying to block it, but she regained her footing quickly enough to evade the next one that dinged loudly on the asphalt. “You're pretty good yourself, for a cowboy.”
“We trained at our ranch,” Kenny replied, panting only a little as he tried again to decapitate her. “We had a good teacher.”
Didi evaded a few more swipes at her head, then tumbled to the ground. “So I see.”
She spent a good minute blocking downward strikes and jabs before she gut-kicked him and rolled to her feet. She went back and forth with him for a while, but the determined bastard didn't waste another word. Though glad she didn't get tired, she was getting a little worried she wouldn’t have what it took to beat him.
His onslaught stopped again, this time grinning triumphantly. “That's gotta sting.”
She frowned, then looked down and noticed he had cut her jacket—and the flesh beneath. Thinking back to the Black Knight from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, she couldn't help but say, “Just a flesh wound.”
His victory gave way to confusion—probably at not seeing any blood—as he raised his sword again. “Let's do something about that.”
He attacked again with power and ferocity he had been holding back, which floored her a few more times. Each strike and block scared her a little more. She tried everything she could to hold him back or counterattack, but he was just too good. The son of a bitch had been toying with her the whole time, and
she realized how grossly he outmatched her.
“How come you ain't bleedin'?” he asked in the midst of his attacks. She took that to mean he had cut her again.
“Maybe your blade isn’t long enough to reach me.” She went in with a few more strikes, but he blocked them all and knocked her back again.
“It’ll do the job, darlin’,” he replied with an evil grin, then came at her again.
She ducked Kenny’s blade for the hundredth time and swiped at his open side, but she only nicked him and had to block a few more of his powerful strikes. Somehow, he managed to twist her around until her back was against him. She barely had time enough to get her sword up to stop him from cutting her throat. Her head jerked back, quickly telling her it had been pulled back. Their swords drew closer to her, and she got desperate.
“Smile pretty for me,” he said through gritted teeth.
She grabbed one of her grenades, yanked the pin with her teeth, and slipped out from under him. She lobbed the explosive at him and rolled away in time to watch him swat the thing with his sword like a baseball. A huge store window exploded along with half the wall it was attached to.
Kenny glared at her with anger and surprise.
She shrugged. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”
The joke didn’t amuse. Kenny responded with massive strikes that knocked her sword from her hands and narrowly missed her head. She tripped him and rolled toward her sword, which one of Kenny's goons was stupid enough to pick up. She knocked that sucker out and took back her blade in time to deflect another strike from Kenny and shove him away—or, rather, her away from him.
Finding the open area of the street less advantageous at the moment, she opted for a slightly more confined space and leaped into the vehicular barricade, scaring a few of their drivers in the process. Kenny quickly joined her, and the battle resumed, though with no more benefit to Didi. She tried to use her surroundings against him—car doors, downed weapons, his idiot servants, whatever—but she just couldn't shake him. She fought more aggressively, but he deflected her too easily. His stamina amazed her as much as it scared her, his fury an unmatchable power. His hateful eyes bore down on her as if trying to burn her with sheer willpower.
Then, after she missed his head by a mile, he charged her right into her armored bus. Pain burst through her head like it exploded. She tried to fight through it to catch his next attack, but he backed away with a proud grin before she could reach him. “Long enough for you, Death Doll?” he teased.
Didi looked down and found his blade deep into her abdomen, the hilt barely an inch from her clothes. Her feet dangled freely off the ground, making her realize he was strong enough to pierce a good half foot of steel with a sword. He had won and left her hanging like … a rag doll.
A doll with only one accessory left.
*****
Cynthia eyed the two guns aimed at her, but their owners were focused on the battle outside like everyone else. The cheering of her people told her things were going Kenny’s way, but she had to do something before that thing sank its teeth into him and took him away from her.
“We have to help her,” that guy Cody said as he tried to push away from the window. He looked more nervous than the rest—and half dead already. The old nurse held him down, paying Cynthia no mind. The pistol strapped to the old bag’s leg was close enough to grab. The other guys with the guns kept looking out the windows. It was now or never.
Cynthia took the nurse’s pistol, punched the hapless old bag in the face, and aimed at Cody’s head. “Open the door,” she shouted.
Everyone faced her now. The guns quickly found her head, but she pulled the hammer on hers back and warned them off. They gaped like feeble idiots until the Injun waved them down.
She made the Injun and the old bag join their friends where she could see them. They obeyed without pause. Weaklings. She forced their medic to his feet. His dead weight was nothing compared to the unrevealed strength she possessed thanks to Kenny. She slammed her hostage against one of the long peep holes and peeked outside. There, she watched her beloved Kenny ram his sword through that thing and pin it to the armored wall. He was a powerhouse.
She also saw the thing’s head squirm, which meant he didn’t know it was dead yet. She called out to him, but the roar of her comrades and their triumphant gunfire drowned her out.
“Move it,” she ordered the so-called leader, yanking him toward the door.
*****
Death Doll, feh! The pale thing wriggled helplessly against the sword buried in her chest, which finally bled as her gloved hands held his blade. Her finely-toned body slowed, the light in her eyes gradually dying. She looked so scared and confused until she slumped over and stopped moving altogether. His sister’s sword slipped from her hands and clattered on the asphalt.
His people cheered him on, and he raised his hands in victory. Some wasted ammo shooting into the air, but he allowed them this one moment of reckless celebration. After all, there was plenty more ammo on the bus they were about to raid.
When the cheers subsided, he faced the bus. Several of the people on the bus lamented over their fallen leader, or maybe—given how little they seemed to like her—they were just afraid he wouldn’t keep his word. Feeling uncommonly generous to his prey, he smiled at them. “Now, don’t be alarmed, folks. Y'all put up a good fight, but it's over. The bus and everything on it are ours now, as will be anyone we feel like keeping around. The rest are free to go.”
Whimpers and sobs from the bus excited him, but he let it pass.
“Of course, that deal’s off if whoever’s out there takes another shot at us,” he added loudly at the darkening town at large.
All he heard was the fire burning down the street.
He waved down his people, and they lowered their weapons just enough to keep them ready, in case his generosity was met with violence.
The door hissed on the other side of the bus. He waited patiently to see who would surrender or fight first. To his surprise, it was Cynthia who emerged with a pistol aimed up the jaw of the late Death Doll's partner-in-crime. He smiled proudly, but she looked past him in horror.
“You have to get her in the head, Kenny,” she snapped.
“Relax, darling,” he said as he waved over his trophy like a prized buck. “She's history.”
None of the urgency left her eyes. “You don't understand.”
He yanked his victim’s head up by the hair and looked upon her sweet, peaceful face. Her skin was as cold as ice. “There’s nothing to understand, except what a shame it is to waste this thoroughbred beauty.” He dropped the Death Doll’s head and smiled at Cynthia. “I haven't had a woman like her in a long time.”
Suddenly, a vice grip crushed his throat and faced him into the cold, dead eyes of the Death Doll. She grinned hungrily at him, her right eye slightly discolored and her chest wound still barely a trickle. He struggled to free himself, but her grip was unbreakable.
“That's perfect, baby,” the half-grotesque chick said with a darkly flirty tone, “because I haven't had a man in two years.”
The last thing he felt was the ripping of his neck.
*****
Cody’s chest tightened suddenly, both from the pain in his side and the sight of Didi devouring Kenny. The muscular giant screamed and tried to shove her off, but nothing could break her death hold.
Cynthia cried out and aimed at Didi’s head. Cody put every last bit of strength he had left into knocking her out with one punch. He succeeded, but spilled atop her. His head swam, and his side sharply ached. He wanted to vomit. Yet all he could worry about was his friend.
He watched her push off the bus and devour Kenny’s meaty neck like a huge steak on the ground, ignoring the sword in her torso. This act made things much more difficult for his friend as far as facing the camp, assuming they both survived the night.
The Pride of Life glanced nervously at Didi over their guns as if they had no idea what was happening. One of
them figured it out quickly enough and took aim, but half of his head exploded. The rest started shooting in odd directions to kill the sniper.
Hands seized Cody. He fought them off until he realized it was Ron and Bob. “It’s okay,” the former said, “we’ve got you.”
Cody pointed to Cynthia. “Get her.”
Ron seized the unconscious redhead.
As Bob slowly lifted Cody, they both watched Didi masticate the psychotic Kenneth Thibeault the Fourth. Those powerful limbs lost their strength. Those lively eyes went blank. That massive body finally became still.
Yet Cody’s heart broke for his friend, for she was about to have it worse.
*****
Revenge is bloody delicious, Didi thought as she gorged on Kenny’s flesh. Her mouth flooded with warmth. Her brain tingled with life. Every bite of him was the same pure ecstasy as eating his rapist brother-in-law. His mighty hands couldn’t remove her, which thrilled her better than any orgasm in life ever did. Oh, it was exquisite! How could she have given this up? Two years; two wasted years she let herself be domesticated by the living. All those tasty morsels she could've sampled in her camp—and they waited for her on that bus. Now that she was done with the one who hurt her friend—
My friend, she thought with a sudden pang of regret, which did little to dull the hunger pain that returned to her head in full-force. She released Kenny from her jaws of death and stared into his empty eyes. The evil had been devoured out of him along with his life. She dropped the poor bastard and watched him twitch like a roach on its back. She tossed away Cynthia’s empty vial, now that it had sold her death scene.
He had it coming, she thought to herself. He hurt her—hurt her, a corpse. And she ate him.
What will Cody say?
The painful emptiness hit her as hard as her guilt. She fought with herself over what to do next until she noticed the furious Pride of Life shooting in all directions, each one getting picked off in turn. Craig.
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