The door slammed open.
“Let’s go.”
Heart sinking, she glanced over at Grace as she pushed the covers back. The girl’s snoring had stopped, but she hadn’t moved. Hopefully, she was still asleep.
Moving quietly across the room, she joined Luke in the hallway, closing the door softly behind her. He pushed her towards the stairs, then grabbed her ass as she began climbing the stairs.
Closing her eyes momentarily, she wished she could spin and punch the man hard enough to send him tumbling down the steps. It was a ridiculous thought, and she knew it. First of all, she’d never punched another human being in her life, so she probably wouldn’t even do it right. Second, she probably wouldn’t even hurt him if she did. Ultimately, it would be her at the bottom of the steps, not him.
Reaching the top of the steps, she turned right, heading down the hallway towards his room. Luke swayed as he walked beside her, bringing his arm around her shoulders to help steady himself. “You might need to work a little harder tonight. I’m kinda drunk.”
Glancing to the side, Shelly rolled her eyes. ‘This bastard wants me to work for it? I don’t even want his little dick.’ There was little doubt in her mind that his abusive nature during sex was an attempt by the man to make up for his physical shortcomings.
Pushing open the door to his suite, Luke shoved her into the room, slamming the door behind them. “Get your clothes off.” He sat down on the couch heavily, pausing for several seconds before beginning the process of removing his boots. As he took each one off, he tossed it aside carelessly, knowing he’d have her pick up after him later. When he removed his socks, the smell of his feet nearly made her faint.
Crossing her arms in front of her bare chest, she asked, “Would you like me to help you clean up?”
He shook his head before pulling his shirt over his head. “Nah. Too tired. Clean up in the morning.” Tossing the shirt aside, he stood up, looking at her with unfocused eyes as he started removing his pants. “Jus’ wanna get laid and go ta sleep.”
Taking a short breath, trying to avoid breathing in his stench, she nodded. “Mind if I clean you up?”
Stepping out of his underwear, Luke shook his head. “Nah, fuck that. C’mere.” He grabbed her and threw against the edge of the bed, bending her over.
“Wait, can I- ”
“Shut up, bitch!” He pressed himself against her, leaning down and breathing into her ear. “I’ll let you know when I want you to open your mouth.”
“But it hurts. Please…”
“I said, shut u-”
The sound of a heavy crunch filled the room.
Shelly felt his body slide down and off her, collapsing loudly on the floor. Looking over her shoulder in shock, she saw Grace standing there. Near her feet was a broken lamp, its heavy base in pieces.
“Bad man.” Grace said, looking at her mother, tears filling her wide eyes.
Listening to Sheriff Halwell talk about his plans for the future, Harold’s eyes followed as his wife and Ricky walked away, the man’s arm around her waist. He was drunk, having consumed five or six (seven?) glasses of whiskey, and his head and ear still ached. He’d refused to go clean it and bandage it, preferring instead to have Wanda look at it during the evening as a reminder of how much he’d sacrificed to achieve their objective. If she noticed, she didn’t show it, though he couldn’t understand how she wouldn’t have. Ricky hadn’t even been hurt, and yet she seemed to fawn over the man.
It was maddening.
It made no sense.
It was infuriating.
How could she be so indifferent towards him? Didn’t she understand how hard he was working to be a valued part of the Sheriff’s crew? Heck, the man had told him as much that very night!
To make matters worse, Ricky glossed over Harold’s decision to head to the back of the house, a move that likely saved them both. He didn’t mention that he’d been too scared to look inside, forcing Harold to look instead. He simply skipped to the part where he threw the flash bang - the only one they had, the one that was only to be used after they knew where the woman and girl were, which they’d only determined thanks to him - inside.
When it came time to explain how Harold got shot, he’d simply added, “Crazy bitch shot Harold, too.”
And yet, Wanda wouldn’t even give him the opportunity to tell her what he’d done or how he’d contributed. He’d nudged her a few times during the night to get her attention, then motioned with his head towards a different part of the lobby, where he hoped he’d be able to tell his side of the story and maybe gain some respect from her. Each time, she’d ignored the first nudge, then met the second with a glare that made it quite clear she had no interest in him or what he had to say.
Throughout it all, his ear and head ached, a constant reminder of what he’d lost, only to have Ricky come out as the hero.
“...from there, we’ll work outward, maybe down to the edges of San Bernardino.”
“What ‘bout off to da east?” Jerry asked, slurring his words.
“Twenty-Nine Palms is off in that direction. I ain’t fixin’ to mess with no Marines until we have a much bigger force.”
Jerry nodded, his eyes half-closed. “You’re...you’re...you’re smart, Boss…”
Draining the last of his whiskey, Harold set his glass on the bar. “Guess I’ll clean up my head and ear and go to bed.”
Still focused on his grand plans, the Sheriff barely acknowledged him. “Alright. Anyway, we’ll work our way…”
Harold shuffled his feet along the carpet as he walked back to his room. Like Ricky, Jerry, and the recently deceased Clive, he was relegated to a regular room on the first floor. Only the Sheriff, Diesel, Kyle, and Luke had been allowed to occupy suites, even though there were four at the end of each hallway.
Opening the door to his small, empty room, he looked around, taking in the sadness of it all. Here he was, facing the end of the world and finding a way to survive, and yet, he was completely alone. What was left for him? What was the point? To help the Sheriff reach his goals of building a frickin’ empire?
Pulling his gun from its holster, he set in on the dresser, then reached down and grabbed the bottom of his shirt. Pulling it up over his head and tossing it on the chair, he looked at his reflection in the mirror. Even without access to lots of food, his body still maintained that perpetually chubby look it had always had. Sighing, he turned and headed to the bathroom to clean up his face and ear.
Flicking the light switch, he was met by a hideous reflection in the mirror. Aside from the dirt and grime that covered his dark skin, the upper left part of his head was a blackish-red mess of clotted blood and bits of dirt and wood. Looking closer, he saw tiny shards of glass embedded in the dried blood. Beyond that, everything above the center of his ear was gone, effectively ending his ear halfway up.
“Fuck.”
Reaching over, he grabbed a jug of water from the stack atop the counter, closed the stopper for the sink, and filled the basin halfway. He filled his dirty hands with water, momentarily paused in anticipation of the pain, then leaned down and tossed the water up onto the side of his head. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt that much. He repeated the move, slowly washing away the dirt, wood, and dried blood. When the wound was slightly cleaner, he realized the bits of glass were actually embedded in the side of his head. Using the tips of his fingers, he slowly removed the pieces, one by one, setting them on the counter. When he was done, he counted fourteen pieces of glass, each coated with his blood.
After changing the water, he washed his head again, this time feeling the pain he’d anticipated as the water entered the wounds left open by the removal of the glass. Having nothing else, and being unwilling to go see Wanda, he used wads of toilet paper to stop the bleeding on the side of his head.
Moving back into his room, he sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. He brought his head up and looked at his reflection in the mirror. His gut sat out in f
ront of him slightly, his arms and shoulders were thick but clearly underdeveloped. His hair was a mess, matted and overgrown, no longer the clean, close cut he preferred. His face was shaven, one of the few luxuries they had, but the side of his head and ear were, of course, a mess. All in all, he felt disgusted with himself.
‘Look at you, Harold. Still out of shape, even after all of this. You’re ugly, your hair is a goddamn mess, and you’re missing half a fucking ear.’
But beneath all of that, the worst part by far was Wanda.
All he’d wanted was her respect. Everything he’d done had been done to gain her respect, and where had it gotten him? She was with Ricky.
Ricky, that tall fucker with his stupid sandy-brown hair and athletic build. God he hated him. He’d always been cool with white people, but this guy...fuck. He hated him almost as much as he hated Chad .
Chad, with his stupid sandy...brown...hair…and athletic...
“Motherfucker…”
Halwell took another sip of whiskey, savoring the flavor. Unlike the others, he’d been nursing his drinks all night, taking the time to enjoy the Johnnie Walker Blue that was set aside strictly for him. “Anyway, once we do that, we’ll move out further, and find more people to join us. We can - ”
Swaying on his feet, Jerry pointed outside. “ Whas dat ?”
Irritated at being interrupted, Halwell glared at the man for a second before turning and looking in the direction the man pointed. “The fuck?”
A vehicle was driving down the hill, coming directly towards the lodge. It’s high beams were on, illuminating the parking lot and his security forces as it drove towards them.
“Stay here.” He ordered before marching towards the front door.
Shelly heard a loud thump come from the room next door, the room the giant biker occupied. Turning and rushing out of the bedroom, she ran across the living room to the door, quickly and quietly closing it. As softly as she could, she turned the deadbolt on the door, engaging it.
She looked back at Grace. The girl had followed her into the living room, still on the verge of tears. Knowing Grace’s crying was never soft, Shelly rushed back to her and held her tightly. “Shhhhh ...baby, please don’t cry, okay?” she whispered in the girl’s ear.
Not understanding the need for quiet, the girl began in a normal voice, “Sorry I - ”
Shelly’s hand clasped over her daughter’s mouth, cutting off her words. “Sorry, sweetie, but I need you to be quiet, okay? We’re getting out of here. Sound good? Just nod.”
Grace nodded, her big eyes staring back at Shelly. Her face showed a mixture of fear and relief. She leaned forward, motioning for Shelly to bring her ear closer. When she did, the girl pressed her lips against Shelly’s ear.
“Momma, you’re naked.”
Shelly pulled back, feigning surprise, trying to keep things lighthearted, though her heart pounded in her chest. She rushed over to where her clothes were piled on the floor and hastily pulled on her underwear, bra, t-shirt, and lightweight pajama pants. Looking over at Grace, who wore her favorite Frozen t-shirt and sweatpants, Shelly realized neither of them had shoes. It would be hard to get far out there barefoot. They’d have to stop at their room to get shoes before they left.
The door to the room next door opened loudly. Freezing, Shelly heard the sound of something heavy being dragged out into the hallway, then the door slamming. The muscles on her body tightened as she anticipated knocking on the door to Luke’s room, but it never came. The dragging sound started again, moving past the door and down the hallway. When it was far enough away, she exhaled, allowing herself to relax for a second.
Rushing back to the bedroom, she saw Luke on the floor, motionless. Blood was pooled around his head, and several pieces of the ceramic lamp were embedded in the flesh. Realizing he’d stripped in the living room, she turned and headed back to where his clothes were piled in front of the chair. Rummaging through the pockets, she found his ring of keys, one of which would open the exit doors at the end of the hallway where their room was.
Turning back to Grace, she whispered, “Okay, sweetie, we’re going now. I need you to be very quiet.”
Moving to the door, Shelly unlocked it and pulled open slowly. Leaning forward, she moved her head forward until she could see down the hallway. Near the center of the building the big man was dragging the naked body of a woman behind him. He turned and began descending the stairs, letting the woman’s bounce off each step.
Fighting the urge to vomit, Shelly thought about the situation for a minute. If the man was getting rid of the body, he’d probably want to take it outside, which gave them a couple of minutes before he came back their way. She reached back and grabbed Grace’s hand.
“Come on, sweetie.”
Together they ran softly down the hallway, their bare feet making little noise on the padded carpet. Staying close to the wall, they descended the stairs, then turned right to head down the hallway towards their room, which they reached without incident.
Shelly opened the door and quickly pulled Grace inside, closing the door softly behind them. “Get your socks and shoes on, sweetie. Make sure you put double knots on your laces, okay?”.
“Okay, momma.”
Shelly tied her sneakers quickly, double knotting the laces as she’d told her daughter to do, then rose from the chair, looking around the room. ‘Jackets!’ she thought, walking to the closet. It couldn’t hurt to have them.
“All done, momma.”
“Okay, just give me a second.” Shelly opened the closet and retrieved hers and Grace’s jackets.
“Momma, who’s that?”
Shelly spun around, finding and following Grace’s pointing finger towards the window.
Someone was out there.
CHAPTER EIGHTY TWO
Racing outside, Halwell ran towards where his guards were positioned as they watched the brightly lit vehicle descend the hill towards them.
“What the fuck are you waiting for? Open fire!!” He yelled, taking up position behind a truck. He rested his arms atop the hood of the truck as he aimed his pistol towards the approaching shape. The damn thing had high beams on, as well as a roof mounted light rack, all of which made it blinding to look directly at. It was also weirdly quiet as it rushed down the hill towards them.
The men began firing the rifles at the shape, pelting it with bullets as it got closer and closer. Undeterred, the rapidly approaching vehicle never swerved as it closed the distance.
“It’s gonna ram us!” One of the men shouted, jumping and running to get out of the way.
As he did, an arrow caught him in the side of the neck, dropping him instantly.
Looking back at the vehicle, Halwell was finally able to recognize it.
A silver 4Runner.
Turning back, he ducked down just as an arrow flew past his head. Looking towards the lodge, he saw Diesel’s massive frame emerge from the building.
A gunshot rang out from inside the lodge, followed shortly after by another.
“Get to the girl!!” He yelled at the man.
“I’m gonna rock your world, baby.”
“Oh, fuck yeah.” Ricky watched as the beautiful, dark skinned woman shed her clothes in front of him, revealing a tight, athletic body with an amazing ass. He’d never been with a black woman, but he’d always wanted to, and this one was fine with a capital F.
Stepping towards him, she removed his shirt, lifting it over his head before pushing him back on the bed. She pressed her body against his as her lips began working their way across his chest and down to his stomach. Unbuckling his belt, she opened his pants and reached inside.
“Mmmmm.” Moving down she began pulling down his pants, her eyes never leaving his. With the both of them completely naked, she crawled back up onto the bed, straddling him, rubbing herself against him.
Ricky found himself breathing hard as he tried to stay cool. It’d been a long time since he’d been with someone even remotely as sexy as
this woman.
“Like that baby?”
“God yes.”
Ricky closed his eyes, taking in the sensations.
He felt a spray of something warm across his body an instant before his mind registered the sound of a gunshot. His eyes flew open. The top half of Wanda’s head was gone. Her eyes were wide with shock as she fell sideways off of him, landing partially on the bed before sliding to the floor.
Harold stood in the doorway, gun in his hand, looking down at his slain wife. “You fucking bitch! How could you do this to me, goddammit!”
He pointed the gun at Ricky.
“Woah, easy, buddy. I didn’t, I mean, we hadn’t, uh…”
Pulling back the hammer, Harold’s eyes were filled with tears. “Fuck you.” He looked back down at his wife, still keeping the gun pointed at Ricky. “Fucking bitch.” He said weakly, tears flowing from his eyes.
Ricky’s hand found the gun on the nightstand. Pulling it in front of him, he grasped it in two hands, pulling the trigger.
The bullet hit Harold squarely in the chest, knocking him back out into the hallway. He fell to the floor, his blood soaking the carpet as his dead eyes stared at the ceiling.
“Alright, Fortune Cookie, it’s time!” Kyle’s voice was drunk and happy as he entered his suite. He’d been distracted all evening at the thought of having sex with the beautiful Asian woman that was waiting for him in his bedroom.
“Time for me to open you up!” He said, smiling as he unlocked and opened the door to the bedroom.
It was empty.
“The fuck?” He looked into the bathroom. Also empty. Walking around the room, he looked on the other side of the bed, then in the closet, then under the bed.
Still nothing.
He glanced at the windows. Definitely too small.
‘Probably hiding in the shower.’
Surviving Rage | Book 1 Page 76