by Miller, Tim
“Bitch, you resist me again and I’ll slice your fuckin’ tits off, you understand?”
“Yes! I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt me,” she pleaded.
“Oh, we gonna hurt you all right. We gonna hurt you real good.”
From behind them, there was a scream as another of the men began tearing the clothes off one of the girls while bending her over the counter. The woman cried and screamed as the man started raping her from behind, with her facing the rest of the restaurant, her own humiliation on display.
“That’s enough you motherfucker!” a man yelled from the dining room. Some guy in a suit who had been seated ran straight at the pair, diving over the counter landing on her rapist. He knocked the assailant to the ground and got a few punches in, before another man overpowered him. Within seconds, several of the intruders were on him punching and kicking while the burly guy walked over. They grabbed him by his arms and pulled him to his feet.
“Now, that was a really stupid thing to do. Here we have been nice to you all so far. And you come going off like some kind of lunatic”
“Fuck you Grizzly Adams.”
“Hahaha, I like that. Grizzly Adams, good one. But we still have to make an example out of you. Can’t be giving other people ideas. Boys, I think our man’s face is a bit dry. I think he needs some oil.”
The men walked him over to the deep fryer. The man struggled and kicked, but his captors were far stronger. They thrust his head face first into the hot oil. After a few seconds they pulled him out. He let out the worst sound Melissa had ever heard. It wasn’t a scream nor a howl, and it definitely wasn’t human. The rest of the hostages let out a collective gasp as they thrust him face first back into the oil. This time they pulled him out and threw him to the ground.
As soon as she saw his face, Melissa doubled over and threw up. The man was lying on the ground a few feet from her looking up. His face was red and mangled, with chunks of skin hanging off. His hair was burned off the sides and his nose and lips were reduced to charred chunks of wilted flesh hanging off his face. One of his eyes had melted down the side of his face, dripping off his cheek.
“Anyone else wanna be a hero?” the burly guy asked to the group. The restaurant had become dead silent. “Well good! Now let’s get this party started!”
Chapter 8
Randy was a few blocks from his house when the commotion started. First it was the sound of gunshots and screaming. From there he heard tires squealing, more screaming and laughter. A group of men in several pick up trucks had crashed into a police car. The men were dragging the deputy out of the car and beating him with his own baton as he struggled. More men were breaking into houses. A group of children ran past him screaming while a woman went flying from a home's second story window, landing on her head and lying motionless.
Randy ducked under a porch as he watched the chaos unfold. What was going on? He'd never seen anything like this. Across the street he saw the men carrying a woman and what looked like a girl in her late teens out into the street. They ripped the clothing off the women as more men approached and began raping both women right in the street. He looked over at the police car and saw the officer lying on the ground with his head split open. Blood and brain matter spilled from the opening where his face used to be.
Sneaking between the buildings, he made his way closer to downtown only to find things there were just as bad if not worse. He had no idea what was happening, but wanted to get out of town as soon as possible. Trouble was, there was no safe way out. These men were everywhere. Before he could finish that thought, he saw him. Skip, the man his wife had left him for was running for his car, a 1992 Chevy Corvette and fumbling for the keys. Randy's wife, Elaine had ditched him for Skip months before. Skip was in better shape and made more money than Randy by far. He sold real estate and despite the horrible housing market, Skip had managed to pull in well over six figures.
He didn't look so tough at the moment. Randy wondered where Elaine and the kids were, but Skip was just across the street from him. Randy looked down the street and saw that most of the men causing the damage were preoccupied. The police had no control over the situation. Before he knew what had come over him, Randy was charging toward Skip at a dead run. Skip looked up just as Randy was on him and they both went tumbling to the driveway.
"Randy! What the fuck are you doing?" Skip yelled as he tried to push Randy off him. Randy was shocked at Skip's lack of strength. He looked large and muscular, but Randy had no trouble holding him down.
"I'm killing you, you fuck!" Randy yelled.
"Dude! Get a grip!"
"I got a perfect grip!" Randy yelled as he grabbed each of Skip's ears and began slamming his head onto the concrete. Skip tried to yell something else as Randy slammed his head into the ground over and over. Blood began to spray along the driveway and splattered onto Randy's face. He didn't stop though, he kept slamming long after Skip stopped moving. By the time Randy had finished, Skip's ears were the only part of his head that still looked human.
Randy sat and admired his handiwork as he looked around. He had no idea what had come over him, other than the years of being stepped on, kicked around and treated as if he were invisible. On this night of chaos and lawlessness, Randy saw something for the first time in his life - opportunity. He grabbed Skip's keys and climbed into the Corvette, starting it up. He smiled at the engine's low growl. Shifting into gear, he sped out of the driveway and down the street.
As he sped into downtown, he didn't bother avoiding anyone. People ran into the streets and he plowed right over them. Bodies went flying in all directions. A few times he even drove onto the grass just to hit a few more people. He smiled at the screams and carnage taking place around him. His whole life, the people of this town laughed at him, mocked him and humiliated him. This night would be his and his alone. All of them would pay. He would see to it.
Chapter 9
Colt sat in his truck and watched the mayhem unfold around him. He wasn’t sure he’d trusted this Joe fellow, but his own brother vouched for him. So far, Colt was impressed with Joe and his crew. Men with bats, clubs and tire irons were busting into the stores. The employees were running out screaming, only to be beaten or shot or stabbed to death in the parking lot. Colt stepped out of the truck to get a better look at the madness he had caused.
There was a fat man running out of a video game store. He was wearing a shirt and tie, so Colt figured he was a manager. One of Joe’s men was right behind him with a gas can, dousing him in gasoline. The man then lit the fat man on fire. Colt was almost fifty feet away and he could hear the man’s screams as he ran in circles flailing about. Had it not been so horrific to watch, it would have been comical. Finally the man collapsed as his body continued to burn.
Colt walked over and looked down at what used to be a fat video game store manager. He took out a cigarette and knelt down next to the burning body and lit the cigarette with the flames. He stood and saw Joe’s man with the gas can. He was looking at Colt with a hint of fear in his eyes.
“Good work kid,” Colt said. “Go have some fun.”
“Yessir,” the young man said before he ran off.
Colt jumped after an explosion went off behind him. One of the stores had just been blown sky high. There were about five or six of Joe’s men lying dead near the exploded storefront. Idiots. Colt had figured some of them would kill themselves with the dynamite. Apparently not everyone realizes you can’t throw a bunch of sticks of it into a building and stand five feet away while it goes off. Those clowns sure won’t be doing that again. He walked back to the truck and climbed inside. He didn’t think he’d missed anything.
The strip mall sat on the main road out of town. He figured any minute, Sheriff Briggs should go tearing through there. From what he knew of Briggs, the man didn’t have a heroic bone in his body. Joe’s men had been ordered not to hurt Briggs, so Colt figured Briggs would hightail it out of town as soon as he could.
As he watch
ed the stores burning and all the violence around him, he noticed something he hadn’t expected. It wasn’t just Joe’s crew causing damage. He saw a group of teenagers pull an old man out of a car and stab him. These kids couldn’t have been more than fifteen or sixteen. Another motorist had pulled a gun on her attackers and shot at least three of them before the others overpowered her.
The townspeople were joining in. This was so much more interesting than he’d expected. Some folks this night would be victims, while others would learn what they are capable of. He was shaken from his thoughts by a rock hitting his passenger window. A group of angry teens was running toward him. They were waving sticks and knives. He grabbed the AK-47 from the floor and hopped out of the truck. It looked like it was about to be his turn to shed some real blood.
As he walked around the truck, the kids were screaming and laughing which sounded like a pack of hyenas being tortured. They ran faster toward him once he stepped out of the truck, until they saw the AK in his hands. The smiles and laughter disappeared quickly from their faces as they almost tripped over each other trying to stop. He gave them a minute to gather themselves and start running the other direction, and then he opened fire.
It only took seconds before he’d mowed each of the boys down. There had been one girl among them, she looked older, eighteen maybe. She was the only one who didn’t run away. Colt wasn’t sure if she froze due to fear, or if she had just resigned to her fate. The others all died being shot in the back, a coward’s way to go. Blood sprayed and splattered as Colt filled them with bullets from the high powered weapon. One took a round to the back of the head causing his face to explode.
Colt walked among the bodies and was sure they were all dead. He hadn’t intended to kill all these kids, but they were in his way and he wasn’t about to be beaten down by a bunch of teenage shitheads. He turned back to his truck and climbed back inside. Just as he got situated, he saw Briggs drive by. He was going full speed with his lights and siren on, except he was headed away from the emergency. Perfect.
Colt put the truck into gear and pulled out of the parking lot. He had to speed up quite a bit to catch up to Briggs, but he had no trouble doing so. While he could have easily killed Briggs instantly, he wanted to have some fun with him first. It was important Briggs knew who was killing him and why. That and he wanted him to suffer.
It was hard for Colt to believe that many years ago he had been the Sheriff of this town. He was a compassionate and caring man back in those days. Unlike Briggs, he had risked his own life many times to save someone else’s. Those days were long over though. Colt was nothing more but a soulless vessel seeking vengeance: vengeance in the form of the most human pain and suffering he could dish out. So far, he was off to a good start.
Chapter 10
Briggs raced through the town, passed the strip mall and toward the city limits. Houston was a few hundred miles away, but he didn’t plan on stopping until he got there. It was hard to ignore all of the death, fire and explosions happening around him, but he managed. Granted, this wasn’t the behavior of a dutiful peace officer, but Briggs had always believed in self-preservation above all things. Not to mention, Colt Stillman was around town somewhere, and he didn’t want to run into him.
As he raced past the outskirts, he glanced into the rearview mirror. There was a pickup truck behind him. He couldn’t tell if it belonged to the thugs tearing up the town, or another person trying to escape. He looked back to the road and swerved to avoid a dead body lying in the road. The swerve scared the hell out of him since he almost lost control of the cruiser. Once he’d regained control, he looked back up in the mirror and saw the truck was getting closer. The truck also ran right over the dead body as it gained on Briggs.
“Son of a bitch,” Briggs said as he watched the truck approaching. He stomped on the gas, holding it to the floor as he pulled away from the pickup. The truck held its distance though, and started closing the distance again.
“Shit, fuck me!” Briggs shouted as he watched the truck getting closer. The road took a sharp curve just ahead. Briggs steered the car around the curve, but his speed was just over 120 mph. It was a much sharper curve than it looked however, and the cruiser slid off the road, down a small hill, rolled several times and came to a stop upside down in a field.
Briggs struggled at his seatbelt which was digging into his neck and shoulder. He tasted blood in the back of his mouth. He tried to reach for his gun, he couldn’t move his left arm. It was either pinned or broken. The pickup truck pulled up and stopped on the shoulder of the road. He couldn’t see it, but knew it had to be the truck by the sound. The truck door slammed as footsteps moved closer to the car.
He kept going for his gun, but his belt had moved in the accident and his gun was pinned behind him. A pair of boots was suddenly standing next to the driver’s side window and a man knelt down. The man was Colt Stillman.
“Well hey Sheriff. It’s been a long time,” Colt said. Briggs froze with fear at the sight of Stillman. Last time he’d seen Colt, Briggs was in his teens. Colt was an athletic young man with short hair and a friendly smile. Now, he was a weathered older man with long, stringy hair down to his shoulder. He had a scar down the side of his face and a permanent smirk.
“Hey Colt. You think you could help me out here? It’s uh, good to see you. Glad to see you made it out of prison finally. It’s a shame what happened to you back then.”
“Oh well you’re all concerned about me now are ya? That’s mighty Christian of ya Sheriff. Last time I saw you, you were in high school. Looks like you moved up in the world.”
“Yeah, I guess so. Um, I’d love to spend more time playing catch up, but could you maybe help me out here? Hanging upside down in this wreck is making me lightheaded,” Briggs asked. He knew Colt hated his father, but was hoping he had some goodwill left in him. In the back of his mind, he wondered if Colt was behind the rioting going on in town, but pushed the thought away.
“Sure, no problem,” Colt said as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a large bowie knife.
“Now, hey man! Don’t do anything crazy! You just got out of the slammer. I’d hate to see you go back over an old grudge!” Briggs yelled as panic set in while the blade moved closer. He felt the cold steel against his neck as it pressed against his flesh. Briggs closed his eyes, waiting on his throat to be cut. Instead he fell from his seat onto the ceiling of the squad car. Pain shot up his left shoulder as he landed on his broken arm.
“Aw shit!” he yelled as he looked up to see the severed seat belt. Colt used the knife to cut him out. Maybe he was just trying to help. He heard Colt grunting as he pulled the door open and bent back down next to Briggs.
“Ok Sheriff, time to get you outta here.” Colt said as he pulled him from the car. Briggs howled in pain as he held his broken left arm.
“Not so loud, you sound like a little girl Briggs. That’s not very manly of you,” Colt said.
“Sorry man. This shit hurts.”
“Why are you out here anyway? You’re the Sheriff, your town is going to hell and you’re leaving? What kind of Sheriff does that?”
“What kind of Sheriff kills the mayor’s wife?” Briggs asked, instantly regretting it. Colt’s smirk turned into a scowl as he leaned down, grabbing him by the shirt.
“Now Sheriff, that wasn’t very nice. You know as much as anyone it was your daddy who killed your mama. But that’s all in the past. I’m here for the future.”
“Future of what?” Briggs asked.
Colt stood upright and raised his arms out to his sides.
“The future of Peace, Texas! The future of Colt Stillman! Sheriff Briggs, rejoice, today is the last day of the rest of your life!”
Chapter 11
The burly man walked around the restaurant with a twisted smile on his face. Melissa sat on the ground next to the counter holding her shirt closed. With some of the commotion, the men had forgotten about her, at least temporarily. The men went around the rest
aurant taking turns raping and beating each of the women, even the old ones. It wasn’t about sex for them, it was about the violence, control and humiliation.
Screaming and crying filled the dining room. The men stood by silent and helpless as their captors had their way with each of the women. Melissa almost felt guilty that they’d barely touched her till this point.
“Bet you think we forgot about you didn’t you?” the burly man said standing over her. So much for that thought. “Didn’t you!”
“Um, n-n-no,” she whimpered.
“Well good. You’re the finest piece of ass in here. We saved you for last!” He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her onto the counter as she screamed. He turned to look at Chad who had been sitting in the corner watching the whole thing. “Watch closely sport, might wanna take some notes,” the man said as he ripped her clothes off of her while his pals held her down. She didn’t bother screaming at this point.
The burly man entered her first. He smelled like grease and sweat as his beard and long, dirty hair brushed against her breasts. She closed her eyes and tried to think of something, anything that would take her away from this place. The burly man hardened and throbbed inside her as he grunted, his whiskey breath stinging her nose. He climaxed inside her as she tensed up, gritting her teeth as his unwelcome, disgusting sperm filled her. He pulled out of her and let out a howl.
“Yeah! Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about! That right there is some grade A, prime pussy! You boys gotta get you some a this! Everyone gets a turn!”
She looked up just in time to see another of the thugs mounting her.
“Oh god…” she moaned as she closed her eyes again, cringing as he entered her.