The Woman on the Beast: A Season for Horror (The End Times Series Book 2)

by Macie Holloway

  She hated to kill the ten Mexicans, as they deserved to be harvested and tortured just as the rest of the pedophiles, but she was feeling blood thirsty and wanted to end her successful mission with a glorious fatality move.

  Butt naked she drove an old pickup down a dusty dirt road into the middle of nowhere where Haiku’s drone had tracked her via GPS and had a pick up drone waiting.

  As the drone door closed shut like a space shuttle, Haiku used his intercom to give the command 100 male ninjas were ready and waiting for.

  “Initiate Operation Broomstick Buttfuck. Drones in field ready and waiting. They are already programmed with precise locations. Project Pervert Pickup underway boys. Time to see how much these dirty bastards like flaming broomsticks with blades up the ass!”

  After extensive research Haiku was distraught to discover that the child sex trade was a 32 billion dollar industry, that little girls as young as five had been discovered with nails hammered into their heads, and some girls had been buried in coffins and covered in flesh eating maggots.

  He’d made sure to prepare torture chambers that were every bit as gruesome and also rigged up with cameras for any victims who requested to witness his revenge.

  FINAL DESTINY

  It’s time to fuck the world alright, but there’s nothing more important than bailing Destiny out first.

  Life in prison was too good for her, and he wouldn’t even wish her on prisoners.

  It took him a month to order all the supplies he needed to take care of her, but he had never been one to cut corners.

  After he’d paid her 2.5 million dollar bond she’d cried tears of joy the entire way back to the Kudzu Cave.

  “Thank you so much, son! You have no idea how horrible they were to me in there. I’m so lucky to have a son who loves me.”

  “With all my heart.”

  Not a lie. He didn’t have a heart. She killed it.

  “And it wasn’t even my fault, Atticus. Misty told me to speed up to make the yellow light.”

  Speed up to 90 mph? Good call Madame Misty.

  “Well, next time you know not to listen to a dumb bitch who can’t follow instructions on a box of Clairol.”

  She turned up her nose at the dilapidated old house covered in Kudzu.

  “What are we doing here?”

  The Kudzu cave was infinitely cleaner than anything Destiny had ever lived in, but people had a funny way of not noticing how disgusting their own surroundings were. They got used to it.

  “We have to hide you, or they’ll try to take you back to jail.”

  “Oh yeah, good thinking.”

  “But don’t worry. I paid the top physician in the world to come here and bring all the medical equipment he needs to put in your breast implants.”

  “Son, I am the luckiest mother alive,” she drawled.

  “You sure are, Mom.”

  She beamed.

  He pulled the rental car into the garage.

  He’d been forced to take another risk by picking her up, but it would be worth it in the end.

  Even the atrocious house couldn’t steal her joy.

  “Sorry about the place. We can fix it up later. Right now I need you to come with me to the basement. The doctor told me to get you set up because he is on his way.”

  “Yay!”

  She followed him down the stairs like a kid at Christmas. Then, she froze with fear when she saw the room.

  “Honey, that table looks like a psych ward restraint table.”

  “Oh mom, a surgery table isn’t the same as a regular medical bed. If the patient accidentally moves even a little bit, the surgeon’s knife could slip. He could scar your boobs for life on accident, and it would be YOUR fault. You wouldn’t want to be scarred for life, now would you?”

  “Absolutely not.” Her eyes were wide with fear at the possibility of someone botching her precious boobs.

  “I’m glad you know all about surgery, Atticus. What are all the mirrors for?”

  The mirrors covered every wall in the room.

  “I want you to be able to see your new breasts. I want you to see how beautiful you will look. Now, let’s you get strapped into this specialized plastic surgery table.”

  Destiny hopped in and fumbled with the wrist straps.

  “Here. Let me do it. I have to make it tight to make sure you don’t accidentally move. Don’t worry. You’ll be asleep for the operation. The doctor will bring anesthesia.”

  Atticus already had an IV set up with boxes of fluid bags. No way was he letting Destiny die. Scarred for life would be a much better punishment. After all, there was nothing more important to Destiny than her beauty.

  “There you go, all tucked in like a baby.”

  “Thank you, son. I love you.” Her dumb blue eyes were filled with trust.

  “You know what? Since we have a little time before the doctor gets here, how about we pierce your tongue? That would be so hot. Boobs and a tongue ring? You will be smoking hot.”

  “Ooooo, I’ve always wanted a tongue ring. I had a belly button ring once, but it got caught on this guy’s belt buckle and I had to take it out.”

  What a surprise.

  “Now, I’m going to poke the top of your hand with a little needle to get the I.V. in. It has pain medicine in it. We couldn’t have you feeling pain, now could we?”

  “Little stick,” he said as he poked her.

  She smiled. “That didn’t even hurt.”

  “O.K., now I’m going to need you to say aaaaaaahhhhh.”

  He spoke gently, like a pediatric dentist, as he clamped her mouth open with the nifty tool he had ordered.

  “Now, stick your tongue out as far as you can. This will only sting for a minute.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut like a little kid afraid of pain.

  Atticus lifted the razor sharp hook knife he’d ordered to make the operation go more smoothly. He’d also ordered various knives, hooks, alligator tweezers, wrenches of all sizes, power drills, screw drivers, scalpels, needle nose pliers, torch lighters, eyeball opening clamps, ropes, paring knives, a microwave, oxygen masks, chains, riding crops, antibiotic gauze, whips, nails, hammers, slabs of wood, a crown of thorns, cauterization devices, bandages, tourniquets, a cheese grater, a Darth Vader costume with a voice synthesizer, bleach, gasoline, a tattoo gun with a large kit of every color of ink, a defibrillator, adrenaline shots, crates of IV bags with various liquids, nutrients, antibiotics, silver nitrate, a metal baseball bat, a hot plate, industrial-sized staple guns, bundles of fiberglass insulation, sewing needles and thread, heart and blood pressure monitoring machines, syringes, alcohol, salt, a fire ant farm, an mp3 player full of songs like Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepson, Work by Rhianna, California Girls by Katy Perry, Flawless by Beyonce, Beautiful by James Blunt, Pretty Girls by the Rolling Stones, and a large flat screen T.V. with a DVD player already loaded with The English Patient.

  What a classic! Who wouldn’t want to watch that movie over and over?

  Since ordering a coffin would have been suspicious, he ordered enough wood to make his own. It was makeshift, but it would have to do.

  He wasn’t sure how far he wanted to take the torture, and he wanted to keep his options open.

  “O.K.,” He said gently as he pulled her tongue out as far as possible and lifted the knife for a quick swing, “Big sting ….”

  Big sting was a bit of an understatement.

  He swiped the knife like an ATM card.

  Her long red tongue fell on her neck as the blood began to spew.

  She tried to scream, but that was no longer an option. He’d purposely left enough of the tongue for her to produce a garbled, babbling sound mixed with painful moans. In a perfect world, he really wanted to hear her blood curdling scream more than anything, but it was too risky. The people of Sterling Heights had 911 programmed on their first speed dial key.

  He quickly cauterized the nub and pushed down on the vein in her neck that supplied the tongue with bl
ood. He knew it would quickly stop the hemorrhaging. He’d done his research this time.

  Had the paramedics not shown up in time, Sarah Beth might have died from blood loss.

  A sock tourniquet was sloppy work and he knew it, but she hadn’t been worth the extra effort like Destiny.

  Atticus hit the button on the IV to deliver a tiny dose of the non-narcotic tranquilizer Vistaril. It wasn’t really a pain killer or a Benzo like Valium. It was basically Benadryl that would slow her heart down to prevent heart attack or shock.

  Severing tongue nerves probably hurt as bad as the cauterization, and he couldn’t risk her dying of shock or heart attack.

  Her antelope-like eyes were still wide as saucers from the pain.

  She moaned like a zombie.

  Wow, that had to hurt.

  “Oh no, Mom! I accidentally cut your tongue off! I’m so sorry. That must have been how you felt when you hit those people. You felt super sorry … Like oops, I did it again!”

  “UUUHHmmmoooooUUUhhhhhmmmmmooooohhhhh ….”

  “Oh, your poor thing. I know what will make you feel better!”

  He hit play on the DVD to start the movie.

  “The English Patient! Everybody loves this movie. It’s a classic. I will take the pain right off your mind.”

  “MMMMMMHHHHooohuuuuuu!”

  “No whining. You need to thank me, Silly!”

  He’d had enough fun for the day.

  He strolled up the stairs, leaving the movie playing on repeat.

  It was time to get back to work.

  THE REAL SISTER ZONE

  Haiku held a large ceremony in the auditorium of his ninja academy and honored Misaki Ito before the eyes of every Ninja. He bowed down before her before presenting her with a pair of ancient of Kunoichi Neko-te tiger claws. It was his own way of giving her a Purple Heart for military service.

  Not wanting to disrespect her Master, she agreed to the ceremony and to his plastic surgery.

  It was only when he tried to arrange for a series of burn scars she’d received on her stomach in Thailand that she finally put her food down.

  “With all due respect, Master, please allow me to keep some battle scars. I earned them.”

  Her reply gave him chills.

  “Misaki, I hope I’m not overstepping my boundaries in asking this, but were you a victim of the child sex trafficking?”

  They were sitting across from each other with Haiku’s large cherry brown desk between them. The door to his office was closed.

  Now Misaki finally felt it was time for the truth to come out.

  “Master, my mother was a prostitute. When I was three she became pregnant and started losing money, so she started letting her clients have sex with me to make up for it. She gave birth to a baby boy who I immediately fell in love with. I pushed him around in strollers and fed him bottles. It was like I had my own real life baby doll for two years. I’ve never loved anyone so much. I thought he was my baby. For two more years after he was born, she continued to pimp me out for money until one day she left my little brother in the crib at home and took me on a bus ride. She dropped me off with a strange man and left me there. I thought she was coming back, but she never did. The man was very kind and took very good care of me, but nothing could make up for the fact that she took my baby boy from me. Finally, when I was old enough, my father told me the truth. He said she was a prostitute who left me on his doorstep. He admitted that he had had sex with her, but she had tricked him by dressing up like a waitress and claiming she worked at a local restaurant. He said he really thought they had something special until she disappeared without a trace. He looked everywhere for her, but could not find her. He always thought something terrible had happened to her until she showed up on his doorstep dressed as a prostitute and handed me to him at only five-years-old. She said she had finally earned enough money to buy a plane ticket to go to the United States to be with the boy’s father who was a high-ranking soldier in the military. She didn’t mention that she earned the money by selling me for sex for two years. Looking back I know that American soldier didn’t ask her to come be with him, because I remember there was always a brown leather wallet sitting on her dresser. She had stolen his wallet and was going to hunt him down and demand he give her money for the baby boy. She knew she could get much more out of an American soldier than she could selling me for sex, and so she left me with the stranger and I never saw her or the baby boy again. The man was very kind to me and even though he would have kept me regardless, his paternity test proved he actually was my real father.

  He gave me the best life a child could have and loved me dearly. He was the best father in the world, but nothing could fill the hole in my heart from losing my little brother who I believed with all my heart was my baby. When word leaked about a new ninja academy, I begged my father to let me apply. When I met you for the first time I almost cried when you said your name was Haiku. That was his name, too, but I’m sure she changed it when she brought him over to live in the United States.

  “What was your mother’s name, Misaki?”

  “Yuko Makanura.”

  “She never renamed me. I am your baby brother. I am Haiku. And from now on, I’m calling you Master!”

  THE OFFSHORE BANK ROBBING WHORE

  Destiny’s lifelong dream had been to fuck the whole world.

  Now it was up to Atticus to carry the torch … To keep her dream alive …

  He was Paul Revere about to fire the shot heard round the world.

  Just like President Truman had given the order to drop the atom bomb on Hiroshima, it was his destiny to drop a deadly bomb. It was called Missing Money, or as he liked to call it: Operation Zero Balance.

  Any bank account off shore is about to get robbed by THIS whore.

  He thought of Vietnam with all its napalm and mysterious diseases like Agent Orange.

  He thought of the recent terrorist camps and how they strapped suicide bombs to kids.

  He thought of how the United States acted like the hero of the world all the time, yet completely ignored the millions of men, women and children murdered in the Rwandan Genocide.

  Is it because they’re black or they don’t have enough oil, Atticus wondered.

  In the Darfur Holocaust over one million children were killed, raped, wounded, displaced, or had their parents murdered in front of them.

  The United States did nothing, and didn’t even attempt to bring it to anyone’s attention through their news outlets.

  Maybe it just didn’t matter since those kids were black, too … but not as black as oil. Who knew?

  In WWII the entire world bonded together to stop the genocide of the Jewish people.

  Oh know! Mass genocide of people who aren’t black! The world must come together to stop them!

  Nations didn’t care about genocide, they cared about money and their own asses.

  The whole world “needed killin'” as they liked to say in Mississippi, and any innocent children caught in the crossfire were lucky to be “in a better place.”

  He popped in his Skeleton Key and pulled up the Control Panel.

  He hit the button to scan, access and organize all world networks and databases.

  All offshore bank accounts in Hong Kong, Singapore, Switzerland, the Cayman Island, and many he didn’t know about were easily grouped into one accessible file by the key.

  He hit ‘select all’ to the entire file.

  “Transfer all assets.”

  Fifty-six trillion dollars from every offshore bank account disappeared with the push of a button and reappeared in his own Sterling Heights’ bank account under the fictitious name Justin Conner.

  Fifty-six trillion dollars!! Ooohhh, that has gotta sting. I wonder who is in more pain now; Destiny, Donald Trump or Mitt Romney? I bet the CEO of Chevron is not a happy camper right now either.

  He stared at the screen amazed at the power of the key.

  And they’d taken it from a guy in Pac-Man s
hirt?

  He wondered if the guy had lost brain cells after having sex with Destiny.

  Big wig oil tycoons, Political leaders, Terrorists, European Bankers, CEOs, Communist leaders, celebrities, were all fucked with the push of a button.

  “The Grinch just stole Christmas, you greedy bastards.”

  He smiled as he imagined them all waking up poor.

  That had to suck.

  Now we just need some suspects.

  Since his computer’s I.P. address was invisible, he could point fingers at anybody he wanted.

  His next mission took two entire days.

  He had to alter communications between political leaders to make it appear an entire group of nations had formed a team to steal the money.

  Since he couldn’t make all the communications in English, that phase of the plan took a little effort.

  He linked together the countries Iraq, Iran, India, Syria, Egypt, Cuba, Somalia, Sudan, Serbia, Russia, Romania, Pakistan, Saudi Arabia, Ukraine, United Arab Emirates, North Korea, China, Albania and Algeria.

  He was sure he’d left a few out, but it was good enough.

  They were team one and someone had just stolen all of their money.

  Who better than team two?

  He doctored emails and falsified documents until he left a big fat finger pointing right back at team two: the United States, the United Kingdom, Canada, Israel, Germany, France, Spain, Japan, Argentina, Brazil, and Mexico.

  He’d always wished the United States would get along with Mexico, and he hoped now they’d finally bind together against the enemy who stole their money. Finally the United States would stop letting Texans play target practice on Mexicans crossing the border.

  Atticus had never wanted to play favorites, and so he made sure to take everybody’s money on both teams! Then, like a Styrofoam football souvenir, he pointed a gigantic finger right back to the Islamic nations. Communist, Hindu, whatever the Hell they all are …the ones who collect chemical weapons like baseball cards. Those nations formed a team to steal team two’s money! With a couple clicks and few changes, now every nation had been framed liked Rodger Rabbit.

  I’m like a modern day Robin Hood, only screw giving all this money to the poor!