by Beverly Sims
"We got us a no animal rule here, but as long as I cain't see it, guess it ain't here.” They both knew she had seen it peeking out of Billy's shirt as he climbed the stairs. They grinned at each other, and Ellen left. She crossed the street, not aware that Billy's father was watching her. He licked his lips and headed off toward Mudbugs.
The lopsided building was smoke filled, as usual, but there were only a half-dozen men behind their mugs of beer. “Hey, sum body buy me a beer for ma news?"
"You ain't got no news,” someone replied.
"Sure as hell do, Blanchard. So here be a hint: yella hair, prettier than a ... a ... a ... sumpin'."
"Oh, hell, have a beer on the house, but sit in that far corner. You smell wors'in a gator nest,” said the bartender. “Now, what's the big news ya got?"
Billy's father liked being the center of attention, so he took a big swallow of his beer before answering. “Y'all ‘member da pretty li'l gal old Mac Atwater was ballin'? Well"—again a swallow, after which he wiped his mouth with the back of his filthy hand—"she come a callin’ at my door t'day, lookin’ for some lovin', and I be willin'. Afore I could get ‘er naked, somebody smashed a bottle o'er my head. I woke up, she be gone. Probably got tired a waitin'."
Everyone laughed, shaking their heads, yelling rude remarks at him. “Hey, maybe he has something there. There was a blonde-haired woman in a Jeep with your kid, and they went inta Effie's. Dint pay no mine ta it then, but reckon that coulda be her."
"Right, Blanchard. Din I tell ya?"
One man in the tavern was excited but did not show it. Yes, he thought, she will be mine after all. He smiled inwardly as he felt the hardness growing between his legs. Patience, just have patience.
* * * *
Ellen left Alma around ten with a couple bananas, some boxed juices, and a couple wrapped muffins. She set them on the table and headed for the shower. Clean and dried, she slipped on an old shirt and pair of panties because she had no gown. Her preference was to sleep nude, but that was not going to happen while she shared her bed with the small boy. He had turned on his side away from her, cuddling his kitten against him. She could not resist sliding in against him, encircling him with her arm. She kissed his soft cheek and was asleep in minutes.
Billy had to pee. He saw Ellen was asleep, so he crawled naked out of bed and went into the bathroom. He did not want to wake her, so he felt for the toilet rather than turning on a light. He lifted the lid and aimed carefully, relieved when the water made noise, showing that he had not missed. In his sleepy mind, he heard stirring in the bedroom. Probably just Ellen turning over. He wanted to go look, but his stream was still flowing. The sounds were greater now, including what sounded like a blow. He knew if he tried to stop peeing now, he would dribble everywhere, so he had to wait until his body was done.
He ran into the bedroom just in time to see the door closing. In the faint light, he could see the bed was empty except for his fluffy white kitten, which stood looking at him. Making as little noise as he could, he opened the door and looked out in time to see Ellen's body over the shoulder of a man who was climbing out a window at the end of the hall. Ellen—somebody was taking Ellen.
He raced down the stairs, yelling as loud as he could. “Help! Help! Somebody help!"
Mrs. Clarke came out of the back room in her old faded flannel nightgown. “What's all the racket about?"
Billy was sobbing, tears running down his little face. “Ellen, someone took Ellen. Climbed out the window. I looked ... fire escape."
"When? Did ya see who had ‘er?"
"No, ma'am. Help me. We have ta get Ellen back!"
"You just sit yourself down, lad.” She picked up the phone and dialed 911, a convenience that the phone company had just introduced. She had never called it before, and somehow doing so made her feel important.
"This is Mrs. Clarke at the hotel in Cotton. One ‘o my guests was jist kidnapped.” Kidnapped, wow, this was something to tell the town ... calling 911 and a kidnapping all at one time. “Ellen Davis. One ‘o the gals come down to Black Bayou. She come back lookin’ for Mac Atwater. Know who I mean?” She listened and then nodded. She set down the phone and looked at the naked child. “Billy, de police is comin'. Ya run on back upstairs and put on some clothes, din come back on down ‘n’ keep me company."
Until then, Billy had not realized he was naked. His face turned as red as a mudbug in boiling water as he raced to their room. He flipped on the light and stood staring at the clothes on the end of the bed. His eyes widened. He had never owned anything new, and here were so many things, he wondered who they all were for, surely not just him. Ellen, he knew it was Ellen. He was careful as he dressed in underwear, a shirt, jeans and shoes and socks. The shoes seemed tight, but that was okay. Ellen had given them to him. They were a gift from God, just like Ellen was.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 52
Mac was awake when he heard the voices outside his door. He rang for a nurse who left the door open when she came in. He pointed at his IV to distract her while he listened. He heard Cotton, kidnapped, and the word that brought him straight up in bed ... Davis. Using all his strength, he drew in a deep breath and yelled, “Ellen!"
The nurse started shushing him, but the cop who had been asleep, leaning his chair against the wall in the corridor, came inside. “Did you yell ‘Ellen', sir?"
Mac mumbled a “yes, Ellen Davis."
"What do you know about Ellen Davis?"
"Fiancé.” Okay, so he stretched the truth, but it got the cop agitated.
"You are engaged to Ellen Davis?” Nod. “Did you know she is in Cotton?” Shake no.
The policeman picked up the phone. He demanded dispatch put him through to Sheriff Danforth while the nurse ran out to call Dr. Chuck. The entire staff on his floor was rushing around like a bunch of Starvin’ Marvins with a feast out of reach. Soon the patients were ringing or coming out of their rooms. The place became chaos. Mac pulled himself into a sitting position and yelled, “Wheelchair!” No one thought to refuse him.
He motioned the cop to push him. They took the elevator down just as Dr. Chuck was entering the building. “Mac, what the hell are you doing? You can't go anywhere in your condition."
It did not seem so hard to talk now with his adrenalin pumping. “Ellen kidnapped. Know where he will take her."
"Go, just tell this officer where it is, and let's get you back upstairs."
"Can't tell. Need to show. Hurry."
Sheriff Danforth rolled up outside the front door, took one look at Mac, and told the officer to help Mac into the car. He hardly needed any help—he was wired. In his mind, he could see his beautiful Ellen tied to that table, naked and bleeding. “Hurry, must hurry."
"Okay, Mac, hang on. Toward Cotton?” He nodded as the officer fastened his seatbelt and closed the door.
Danforth drove as fast as his car could take the curves, sliding several times, once into a ditch, where he managed to rock back and forth to get out. His radio never stopped squawking, but most of the time, he ignored it.
An eon passed for Mac before they reached Cotton. “Keep going. Old Woodward place. No sirens ... would alert him.” Danforth passed along the information. Within minutes, they skidded to a stop.
"Which way? Inside? Where?"
"Around the back. Have to go slow. Into the brush. Come on.” Danforth drove slowly, aware that the ground was unstable and full of holes, perhaps even quicksand. “There, between those trees."
"Hell, there isn't even a path there."
"Just do it, damn it, and stop arguing."
Shaking his head, the sheriff did as instructed. Once inside the brush, he could make out a dim, overgrown pair of what seemed to be tire tracks. He followed them with the other cars close behind them. Mac closed his eyes, and for the first time in years, he prayed.
* * * *
By the time the police had raced through town, everyone knew something was going on ... something bad. Billy watc
hed from the hotel, and then bolted outside, running after the police. Mrs. Clarke yelled at him to stop, but he kept going.
A hand grasped his arm, swinging him around. “Where da hell ya thin’ ya be goin'?"
"Let me alone, Pa. Have to find Ellen. Let go.” He tried to get away, but his father just held on tighter, then swung his other hand and hit Billy hard enough that he would have fallen if he were not being held.
"Ya not be tellin’ me ina thin', ya little bastard. I teach ya a thin’ r two when we get home."
"You won't be teaching him anything, you son of a bitch.” The voice was soft, as Alma always spoke, but there was nothing soft about the knife she held at his ribcage. He could feel the point had broken the skin. He dropped his hands. “Put them up, both of them, and walk back to my building. I have a room in the back where you'll be staying until the police come back to town. Don't even think of trying to get away from me. I hate you, you filthy bastard, and I would enjoy sticking this into your useless body. Billy, are you alright?” The child nodded. “You come, too. We'll get my car and see if we can find where they went, legal or not legal."
True to her word, within minutes they were speeding out of town. The dusty road made it easy to follow as a cloud of it rose above the trees ahead. When they reached the old plantation house, there was no longer any dust to follow. She drove cautiously, following the tracks in the weeds and into the brush. “I have no idea where we're going, Billy, but this is where the police went."
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 53
Ellen came to in the back of a smelly, windowless van. He had covered her with a blanket that she shrugged off. She remained silent, hoping he would think her still unconscious when the van slowed to a crawl. The sound of trees and bushes brushing against it made her realize they were going somewhere secluded. It stopped. The driver's door opened and closed. She heard his footsteps as he walked to the rear and opened the double doors. She kept her eyes closed, feigning sleep, but he was not fooled.
"Hey, Miss Ellen. We have arrived. Ain't you excited to see where we are? Where you will die? No reason to worry, because you ain't going to die for several days. Before that, we are going have so much fun together.” He grabbed her hair and pulled her out the door, dropping her on the ground. Her head hurt more than she thought possible. She did not have time to think as again he pulled her hair to lift her head. He hit her across the back of her neck, and darkness took over.
When she awoke, she kept her eyes closed, not moving. It didn't matter anyway, because he was already at work. He pinched her left nipple so hard she screamed. “Are you ready to party? I sure am.” He walked around the bed or table or whatever it was, taking her hand and placing it on his erect penis. He was naked. “See how ready I am for you? Now let me see if you are ready for me.” His hand moved between her legs, his fingers painful as he rubbed her. “Not yet, but I can take care of that easy.” He moved his other hand forward and poured something from a small container into her delicate tissue. She screamed ... it burned like fire.
He kept rubbing himself against her. “Are you curious about where we are?” He moved away and flipped on a switch, flooding the room with light. She could see her naked body, tied spread eagle to a hospital table. He stepped into the light. She knew him. She recognized the rotted-tooth smile, the huge beer belly, and his humorless laugh.
"Look around, Miss Ellen. This is where yur friends spent their last days. Little Miss Dallas was much more pleasure than that Indian girl. Indian was stronger and harder to tame, like an Indian should be. So, they both were good in their own ways. First couple of women I brought here were jist bayou bitches, no class at all. They served their purposes, though. I enjoyed them and learned how to hold off killing them. Sure did make my pleasure last a lot longer. Consider yourself lucky ... or unlucky, depending. Each one lasts longer than the last."
Ellen felt him move back to rub her again. This time, she opened her hand to take him inside of it. She heard his intake of breath. She knew she had to keep him talking. “How many have you killed here?” Her throat was so dry she could hardly talk. He noticed and lifted her head to pour water into her mouth.
"See, you do good for me, I do good for you. I like what you're squeezing. Now jerk it up and down. Oh, yes, that is good. Don't stop.” She kept her hand moving until she felt him stiffen and pour his sperm inside her fist. He rocked forward, burying his face between her breasts, moaning and licking her.
When he straightened, he smiled. “That was nice, Miss Ellen. Want me to return the favor?” She shook her head now, but he began to rub her anyway.
"Damn it, if you are going to do it, do it right then."
He looked stunned. “What do you want me to do? Hell, might as well give you a little fun too while my cock comes back to life."
"Oh, never mind.” She turned her head away. She was confusing him. “I need to wait until the burning stops from that crap you dumped into me. So we can both just wait together."
"Good idea. Do you like my little pleasure room? You're the first to want to play the game right."
Ellen knew how the stains on the walls and floor had gotten there. “If I am the first, how many came before me?"
He laughed again. “You mean came like having a rolling explosion or came like being in here? No explosions, but probably ten to twelve been here before you.” He liked to brag, so she encouraged him.
"Were they all from the bayou?"
"Nah, only first two. Next time after them, I got two at once. Women got lost tryin’ ta find the highway to New Orleans. I was coming back from Inverness ‘n’ offered them some sightseeing on the way. Shortcut, I told them. They liked Cotton ... said it was ‘cute.’ They even had to go inside the plantation house. Once I got ‘em in different rooms, rest was easy."
Perhaps it was a change in the air that alerted Ellen that the outside door had opened. Her captor was so busy boasting, he had not noticed. Inside the door, Danforth grabbed Mac's arm to stop him from rushing inside. He whispered, “He is only talking ... not hurting her. Sounds like she has him talking. Maybe she can get him to confess more. Do the state a big favor at his trial."
Mac hissed back, “What makes you so sure he will make it to trial?” There was little doubt that his comment was a threat.
The little tape recorder in Danforth's hand continued to whirl as Ellen spoke. “How did you tie them both up? This table is too little for two."
The fat man laughed. “Not for two small women, tied feet to head. I could reach both at the same time. I even untied one hand each and made them do things to one another. Oh, it was so wonderful! Hell, I came so many times after that. All I had to do for months was to come here, smell the place, and see the blood and other stuff. Then I got excited again."
"Tell me about my friends. You got the ransom money, so why did you kill them? How did you know that they were wealthy? Did you plan the kidnapping and murders all by yourself?"
Both men watching were afraid she had gone too far this time, but her captor's ego won out. “Well, here's the story. Daniel Woodward was a teenager when I came home from the Navy. Navy Seal, and a damned good one. When he and his sister came up with the idea of ransoming all three of you for big bucks, he called me. In no time at all, we agreed on their plan. All I had to do was pick up the money. Hurricane was the best cover in the world. A diver not as good as me might have not been able to handle it. Hell, for fun now, I wrestle alligators. Like to watch them bleeding and the other gators come and eat them. Great entertainment ... makes me money too, on the bets.
"Anyway, I got the money, gave part of it to Daniel, kept some for myself. Your friends were too nice to pass up for my little room here. You were supposed to be the third, but you started fucking Mac instead of waiting for me.
"Hey, look at my big guy. He likes thinking about those times and looking at you. Now we can get back to doing what I like the best ... a little cutting here and there to start."
> "Wait, I can use my hand again on you. Wouldn't you like that better?"
Mac's stomach revolted at the thought of her touching the man. He had recognized the voice before he saw the face. The face now leering over the woman he loved.
"Ain't nothing better than cutting.’ You just wait until you see how big he gets when I rub him in blood. Now, time to start!"
All hell broke loose as he lifted his knife to Ellen's breast. Danforth yelled, “Police! Drop your knife. Drop it now, or by God, I will shoot you. Now!"
Instead, the Mudbug bartender Del Marks turned and threw the knife, missing them by inches. From somewhere under the table, he produced a gun that he held at Ellen's temple. “Now, move away from the door. Hey, Mac, I'll be damned. I was sure you were dead. You have as many lives as a cat. Come over here and untie your girlfriend. Oh, shucks, your hands are bandaged, so I guess I will have to do it myself. She and I are going to take a little walk, then a little drive. I will kill her if any of you try anything. I will probably kill her anyway, but maybe I'll fuck her to death. Or give her to the bayou men to use. Picture that. Nice thought, huh?
"Probably got the Cavalry outside waiting, haven't you? Maybe even a sniper. Call them all off. Danforth, you go out and move a car to the top of the stairs. Move your idiots all back to their cars and out in front of the old house. Come down and tell me when it be done. Meantime, Miss Ellen and I can get real close.” He had untied her from the table and wrapped a rope around her wrists behind her back, using only one hand, the other holding the gun at her head. His free hand began to roam around her body, pinching her nipples and running down between her legs as she cried out.
Mac could take no more. He ran toward them as the bartender raised his gun and fired. He hit Mac in the leg and laughed as Mac collapsed. “Did I forget to tell you I am quite a marksman, too? Navy taught me lot of handy things. I could have killed you if I had wanted, but you need to watch and wonder where she is and what I am doing to her. Won't that be fun, old Mackie? Besides, I really don't like to kill just to kill. That old black woman was a necessity, like your horse. She saw me, and the horse was a warning. I really hated having to kill them both, but necessities are necessities. Now, a pretty girl is different ... well, you know!"