CHAPTER Ten
“Ugh,” Jimmy gasped as he pulled open the heavy door and stepped into the fallout shelter. It smells like shit.
Thankfully it wasn’t actually fecal matter that he smelled, just a combination of urine and body odor, but it was still enough to stop him in his tracks and momentarily kill his sex drive. Even worse, he had known something like this would happen given the small space and lack of circulation and had even started to notice a growing foulness, but didn’t do anything about it, his mind able to ignore it at first. Now he couldn’t. A smell like this could kill an elephant.
And I can’t leave the door open.
No toilets, no shower, and no way to quickly ventilate the space. It obviously wasn’t a first rate fallout shelter the Hood family had created. In fact, Jimmy was pretty sure it had been a last minute creation, probably one that had originally been a storm shelter that they tried to convert - something they could duck into when the foreign paratroopers dropped in and wait out their advance until the lines moved beyond the area.
Illinois Insurgency or the II for short.
Jimmy smiled at the thought, but then quickly grimaced at the smell and covered his face with his sleeve, his nose wishing the Hoods had left some gas masks behind for him to use.
And a hose to spray them down with.
Actually he wondered if he could connect a hose from the house onto the sink in the back corner and spray them down. The shelter did have a drain in the center of the floor, so the water wouldn’t pool too much. Even better he then wouldn’t have to worry about scrubbing the floor, which was undoubtedly covered in drying urine.
Like the floor of Frodo’s cage, he thought to himself. Frodo had been a rabbit Alan owned for many years, one that he had named Frodo due to the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Unfortunately Alan had been pretty young at the time and hadn’t been very good at cleaning out the cage, or the giant corner of the basement where the rabbit was free to roam, a three foot high foldable fence keeping it penned in. In the end Jimmy had always been forced to clean the floor, especially when the smell got so great it would waft into his room. Now this reminded him of that, the only difference being the lack of wood chip litter.
Maybe you should give them each a litter box?
Once again the smell killed his smile.
He glanced around the room looking for the bucket. It wasn’t far from Samantha’s feet, feet that were not holding her up but instead simply glided across the floor.
Shit!
He looked up at her face, but couldn’t really see much since her head was hanging low, her chin resting on her chest.
Is she breathing?
He stared at her chest for several seconds but couldn’t detect any rise or fall.
His eyes twisted around and looked at Megan. She was staring back at him, her eyes looking as if she were trying to burn a hole through him.
“Is she dead?” he asked.
Megan didn’t reply.
Jimmy shook his head, and then, nose still pressed into his sleeve, walked over to Samantha and put a hand to her chest.
For a moment all was still, but then he detected a faint beating of her heart and felt her lungs working. Both were weak, however, and he doubted she would be able to keep it up if she continued to hang like this, the weight on her lungs too much, her body needing her feet to support her.
“Let her down,” Megan said. “She’s had enough.”
Jimmy glared at Megan even though he knew she was right, but then wondered how he would go about securing her if her hands weren’t over her head like this. Even if he allowed her to sit rather than keeping her lifted up to where she had to stand, she would be able to work at her bindings once the strength returned and pull herself free.
You need handcuffs or shackles in order to keep them like that.
He didn’t have any that would work, however, and had no idea how to get some. Several online sex stores carried them, but ordering them was a problem because he feared it would be traceable. The last thing he needed was for the Sheriff Department to know he had ordered a couple sets of handcuffs.
If you drive up into the suburbs you could buy some from Lover’s Lane or even go into Chicago and stop at a sex store.
Lover’s Lane was a possibility, driving into Chicago was not. He had only been in the city a few times during his life, and knew that he did not posses the skills to drive around such a busy place or navigate the different neighborhoods. Too scary.
“Jimmy, you have to let her down!” Megan said again.
“I will!” Jimmy snapped back. “But only if you behave yourself!”
Megan didn’t reply to this.
It’s starting.
You care about her.
Jimmy wanted Megan to feel responsible for Samantha and to know that if she misbehaved Samantha would suffer for it, unless it was something so horrible that Megan herself needed a severe punishment.
“First I need to clean this place out.” His words were still muffled by his shirt. “If you don’t give me any trouble with that I will lower her.”
Again Megan didn’t respond even though he knew she had heard him.
Such actions annoyed him so he quickly said, “Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Megan said.
“Good.”
He didn’t want to say much more after that because each time he opened his mouth to talk the smell seemed to attack his taste buds.
Could this smell kill them?
It was a question he had no answer for, though he did remember a teacher once telling him that people who lived in houses overrun by cats could start to go crazy from the ammonia in the urine. That took a long time, however, and they had only been here a few days. Still, if the oxygen became contaminated enough it might pose a problem.
Unfortunately he didn’t really have a solution to it aside from keeping them clean, so it wasn’t really something he could worry too much about.
He walked over to the sink in the rear corner while considering this and looked at the nozzle, his eyes trying to figure out if a garden hose would be able to attach.
The head didn’t have any screw swivels on it so he figured the answer was no. He would have to fill the bucket with soapy water and scrub them down.
And bring a bottle of Febreze next time.
Jimmy grabbed the bucket from the floor and took it over to the sink to fill. While there he realized there was no soap, nor any cloth to scrub them with.
He would have to venture into the Hood’s house and see if anything like that had been left behind. Chances were they had been, the question was had kids destroyed it during their adventures inside?
At the moment such thoughts didn’t really worry him because he was craving the fresh air.
And you’ve only been in here a few minutes.
He wouldn’t let this happen again. From now on the girls would get a sponge bath everyday, right before he fed them.
* * *
For a while Megan hadn’t even realized Jimmy was down there with them, her mind having drifted into a wakeful daze that didn’t really register anything, almost as if she were having a very plain dream, one which lacked the surrealism most people came to expect and sometimes enjoy during the nighttime hours.
It was his movement that finally alerted her to his presence, movement toward Samantha.
Don’t touch her!
The words stayed within her head, her mind and body momentarily fearful of drawing his attention. At the same time she regretted giving into this cowardly behavior and tried to break free from it.
The words let her down you stupid piece of shit nearly left her lips. In fact, she was moistening her dry lips so that that the words would have the needed forcefulness, and wouldn’t sound weak, when he looked at her, his attention causing the fear to return without any delay.
“Is she dead?” Jimmy asked.
Megan couldn’t respond and just stared at him.
Rather than demand an answer from her Jimmy went and investigated the situation himself.
Megan stewed in her own cowardly guilt for a moment and kept vowing to herself not to give into the fear. Make him realize there will be a cost for his actions. Nothing is free.
Such defiance was easy to imagine, but hard to actually achieve in this situation.
After a few moments Megan did sum up enough courage to tell Jimmy he needed to lower Samantha. It was only a small victory, though, because she knew Jimmy would realize this himself. She also worried that by suggesting this Jimmy would refuse, his own mind not wanting to give in to her.
The worst was when he told her he would let Samantha down, but only if Megan behaved herself. She didn’t want to be tied to Samantha like this. She didn’t want her defiance of him to harm her.
That is exactly what he wants, though.
Samantha had become her whipping girl.
It wasn’t fair.
Thankfully she didn’t have to think about this much because once Jimmy left the shelter her mind went back to the unrelenting pain, one which never fully disappeared. She couldn’t even put it out of her mind. This led her to think about a statement she had once heard on TV during one of those medical shows. A guy said something about living in chronic pain and how it was horrible because the one who suffered was always aware of it. Making it even more aggravating was the notion other people had about getting used to it. Even Megan had thought this would be the case. Now she knew differently. The ropes were constantly on her mind. At moments other thoughts seemed more pressing, but never fully acquired all of her attention.
Time passed and she suddenly realized Jimmy had not returned even though he had said something about cleaning them.
What if something had happened?
For the first time Megan realized she couldn’t wish for disaster upon Jimmy, not unless he left behind enough clues so people could find the two of them. If not then they would both die a slow death while hanging like this.
She also realized a part of her was craving his return even though she knew his actions would be horrible. She wanted him back because the long stretches of isolation were too much, especially with Samantha hanging lifeless.
Don’t!
She couldn’t help it and quickly grew angry with herself. You can’t let your dependence on him get the better of you! her mind screamed.
When it came to the population within her mind, this resistance movement was an ever shrinking figure despite how much she wished for it to grow.
Don’t give into him, the resistance part said.
Don’t give him reason to hurt you, the other part replied.
He doesn’t need a reason!
If he didn’t have a reason, however, she then wouldn’t have to feel guilty about it.
Samantha moaned.
Megan turned her attention toward her friend and realized she also didn’t want to feel like she was the cause of her pain.
It’s not your fault!
Megan knew this to be true but wondered how long she would be able to accept it.
How long before I turn into a willing prisoner and accept his rule over me?
Megan feared this more than pain.
* * *
The fresh air outside of the fallout shelter tasted wonderful and for the first time that day he didn’t care about the muggy wetness that clung to him. Instead he felt almost as if it was a complimentary cleansing process, one which promised to take the stench of the fallout shelter away from his body.
I could walk away. Just seal it off and walk away.
It was a nice thought but one he knew he couldn’t truly achieve because the cravings to see the girls would be too strong. The same thing happened with the porn he bought. After purchasing an online subscription or a video he always decided that it would be the last time, never again would he waste money on something like that, but then, a few days or weeks later depending on how strong his will power, he would find himself doing it again. He couldn’t stop.
Will you stop once the girls are dead?
He feared the answer to this question and quickly pushed the thoughts from his mind as he approached the backdoor of the Hood’s house. Many years earlier the door latch had been broken and people could come and go at will. Eventually the sheriff had gotten tired of having to check the place out all the time - mostly because a few kids got hurt while inside which sparked outrage from the parents - and installed a padlock on the door. Of course, this didn’t stop the kids from getting inside, which eventually led to the front door being padlocked as well, something which the sheriff had been hesitant to do because the Hoods still owned the place and could come back at anytime and would be furious if they found it locked. What made the situation even more frustrating for the sheriff was that he couldn’t have charges filled against anyone who broke inside because they needed the Hood family to be the one to complain, and no one could reach them. Thankfully for the sheriff this information wasn’t common knowledge. Even Jimmy had been ignorant of this fact until two years earlier when he had inadvertently asked his World History teacher about it. Before becoming a teacher the man had been a lawyer and at the time Jimmy was considering using the Hood place as a way of getting bondage videos mailed to him, so he asked him a series of carefully worded questions about the issue, ones that didn’t reveal his true plans but got him the answers he was looking for. The plan had never gotten off the ground though because when he attempted to mail a letter to himself with the Hood’s address as the delivery location, it never arrived. After this he decided to wait until he had his own place to buy bondage tapes, but then eventually gave in to the desire, his hope being that his parents never asked him about the boxes that were arriving, which was the whole reason why he wanted to use the Hood place to begin with. Thankfully the issue never came up. He lied about his age with a simple ‘Yes, I’m Over Eighteen’ age statement along with a fake birth date, and sent in Money Orders to get the tapes, which always arrived a few days later in plain boxes before his parents came home from work.
His knowledge about the legality of entering the Hood place never disappeared, and one day he decided to use their basement as a dungeon. His plan had been to grab a girl while walking home, tying her up and using her like crazy until he got tired of her, the ski mask he wore making it impossible for her to know who had done this just in case she was ever discovered. In the end the plan had been vetoed because he didn’t think the basement secure enough, but not before he had broken off the backdoor padlock with a pair of bolt cutters and put his own identical one on.
If the sheriff ever did try to get inside, something that wasn’t likely to happen because they would need a warrant, he would probably just assume he had misplaced the key and use bolt cutters as well once he failed to get inside. So far this had never happened, so Jimmy was confident the sheriff didn’t really care.
Using his own key, Jimmy opened the lock and went inside to look for a sponge and some soap, the dusty stale air not really bothering him because the stuff in the fallout shelter was still fresh in his mind.
The cobwebs, however, were a different story and grossed him out, especially when one caught him square in the face.
Waving his arms around to combat the dangling creations and spitting a bit out of his mouth, Jimmy entered the family room.
All the electronics had been picked clean, either by the Hood family as they were leaving or by kids who had broken inside over the years, but the wooden TV canopy was still present, its shelves ready to be filled once again with VHS and DVDS.
I should have left the bondage tapes in here, he said to himself, the thought having never even occurred to him.
Were did the tapes go?
The question went unanswered as he left the family room and headed up the stairs, certain there had to be at least one bathroom up there.
I should just bring the girls over here one at a time to take a shower.
That would be too risky, though. One false move and the girl could get away easily. Again, if he had shackles and connected their feet together that wouldn’t be such a problem, but then with his luck someone would see him leading a girl from the shelter to the house or the house to the shelter. The place was isolated, but not isolated to the point where being seen was unfeasible.
The stairs sighed as he stepped into the hallway, his arms once again having to clear away the cobwebs that crisscrossed the open air. While doing this he noticed another horrible smell assaulting his senses, one which almost felt damp when ascending his nose.
It was coming from the bathroom on his left, specifically the shower.
Jimmy once again covered his nose and mouth with his shirt and opened the shower curtain.
Mold and mildew colored the once white walls.
He looked around for some soap or body wash, but nothing had been left behind.
The same was true with the top of the sink and the cabinets beneath.
The place had been picked clean.
He left that bathroom and looked to see if there was one in the master bedroom. It too was moldy, though this time the toilet was the really gross part because someone, probably Mr. Hood, had left the seat up before leaving the house. A second less noticeable musty smell was present, one which almost reminded him of the zoo for some reason.
Despite the shirt he could barely stand the room and for a moment wondered if he shouldn’t just rinse the girls off tonight and then come back the next day with soap from home.
No, you’re here and it will only take a second to check, so just do it.
Jimmy obeyed, walked over to the shower, and threw open the curtain. This time a bar of soap was waiting, but it was one he would never touch, not even with gloves on, because of the mold all around it, and quickly turned away.
His eyes rested on the cabinet beneath the sink. It was bigger than the one in the other bathroom had been, only one of its doors had been broken off, probably by kids, and from where he was standing it looked to be empty.
He couldn’t see into the second cabinet, however, and quickly got down on his knees and opened it.
Something growled inside and then lunged at him.
Jimmy screamed while falling backward into the bedroom as an angry opossum came at him, teeth glaring, and quickly back peddled himself from the bedroom, his hand slamming the door shut as he entered the hallway.
Panic at what else could be living in the house entered his mind, especially given how dark it was becoming outside.
The opossum continued to scream at him from beyond the door, one which Jimmy knew he would have to open so that the animal didn’t get stuck and die in there.
Catch your breath first.
It took a while but eventually he was able to stand, and was ready to leave the hallway and the house, the idea of finding soap far from his mind now. Before leaving he eased open the bedroom door so that the opossum just had to push it to get out.
Images of other animals entered his mind, ones which could have easily crawled or slithered inside through the broken cellar windows.
Gooseflesh sprang up on his bare arms.
Get out of this house.
Jimmy did just that, his hands scrapping free all the cobwebs and grime that had caught hold of him, his body desperately wanting a shower.
* * *
Jimmy looked horrible when he came back into the fallout shelter and for a moment Megan wanted to ask him what had happened, but then bit her tongue as he snatched up the metal bucket from the ground and headed toward the sink.
He was angry, but at what she didn’t know. Still, it frightened her a bit.
Bucket filled Jimmy came back into her line of sight and looked around for something. Nothing seemed to catch his eye, though.
Frustrated he headed over to the shelf with the wool blankets on them and unfolded one. Then, without warning, he pulled out a knife from his pocket, flicked the blade open with his thumb, and started cutting out a large square. Once he was done with that he took the large square back to the bucket and draped it over the edge.
“Samantha, stand up,” he ordered.
Samantha did not reply.
Jimmy grabbed her by the hair and jerked her head back. Samantha moaned. “I said stand up!”
“Leave her alone!” Megan snapped. She didn’t even think about the words, they just erupted.
“I’m not in the mood!” Jimmy shouted at Megan. He then lifted Samantha by the hair until she was on her feet.
Samantha stayed like that for a moment and then collapsed again.
“Fine, be that way,” Jimmy said and walked over to where the rope was tied off, undid the knot, and pulled her up until her toes just barely touched the ground.
“You’re going to kill her if you keep doing that!” Megan shouted.
“I don’t care!” Jimmy shouted.
Samantha started crying.
“Put her back down!”
“Do you want to be lifted up too?” Jimmy asked.
Megan didn’t reply.
Jimmy took hold of Samantha’s shirt and pulled it up all the way over her head and wrapped it around the ropes. He then used his knife and cut off her bra, exposing her completely.
“Stop it!” Megan shouted. “Leave her alone!”
Jimmy turned and came at her with the knife, which he pushed up against her right breast, the cloth of her shirt barely masking the feel of the sharp point as it threatened to pierce the flesh just under her nipple. “Don’t say another word unless you want to spend another night hanging from your wrists, after I whip the shit out of you.”
All Megan could focus on was the knife, her body unable to back up because his other hand was holding her in place.
Please don’t cut me!
Her lips stayed sealed.
Jimmy pulled the tip away and went back to Samantha, his hand setting the knife on the floor so he could scrub her clean with the square of cloth he had cut.
Samantha gasped at the water, which was probably really cold and almost instantly started to shiver despite how warm it still was within the room.
The smell of wet wool hit the air as Jimmy repeatedly plunged the square into the bucket, and then roughly ran it over Samantha’s bare skin, his hand pressing so hard that the fabric left red scratches up and down her pale flesh.
Megan got a chill when he scrubbed Samantha’s groin, her mind thinking he would probably drop pants and start f*cking her, but that didn’t happen. Still, she didn’t want him touching her like that - no way - and would do whatever she could to prevent it.
Samantha’s cleansing ended eventually, her naked body completely raw looking from the wool as it dangled from the ropes.
Jimmy put the square back in the bucket and came toward Megan.
“Don’t you dare touch me,” Megan said.
Jimmy stared at her for a second and then said, “You don’t want to push me right now, I’m not in the mood.”
“And you don’t want to touch me right now because I’m not in the mood!”
Jimmy shook his head and grabbed at her pants to undo them, his hand struggling with her jeans as she twisted and turned. The quick movements hurt her wrists, but the pain was worth it given the satisfaction she gained by making things difficult for him.
Without warning Jimmy grabbed her throat and squeezed.
Megan tried to breath, but nothing got through and she gagged.
“Stop fighting me!” Jimmy ordered and then let go.
Megan gasped, but then twisted away again when he tried to undo her pants.
“God dammit!” Jimmy shouted at her. “Stop!”
“No!” Megan shouted back. She then spit on him with all the force she could muster.
Jimmy’s hand came out of nowhere and smashed into the side of her face.
Tears sprang to her eyes and her busted lip quivered at the blow, but the resistance did not stop.
Jimmy struck her again.
Megan still didn’t stop even though parts of her mind were pleading with her to do so.
“Fine!” Jimmy snapped and grabbed the bucket of water.
Megan saw what was coming and quickly tried to shift herself out of the way, but couldn’t, and caught the splash full force, her eyes closing at the last second as the water came at her.
“Ahhhh,” she gasped at the coldness. She then felt her body being lifted into the air just like Samantha’s had been, only this time it didn’t stop until her feet were once again several inches off the floor.
“I don’t know why you fight me like this,” Jimmy said. “You always lose in the end.”
Megan didn’t reply.
Jimmy undid his belt.
Megan had an idea what was coming and braced herself.
“I told you that from now on I will punish Samantha if you act out,” Jimmy said. “First I shall show you what it feels like to be whipped.”
Jimmy disappeared behind her.
A second later the belt snapped across her wet back, the thin fabric of her shirt offering no protection whatsoever.
Don’t scream!
Megan bit down hard, her teeth trying to lock in place.
Jimmy hit her again.
The only sound that echoed was the leather snapping across her back.
Jimmy hit her again, and again, and again.
Megan just barely managed to stay silent this time.
The next blow was the hardest of all, one that she knew Jimmy used all his strength on. Not screaming once the leather landed was impossible, especially when the tip wrapped around her body and snapped into her breast.
Jimmy hit her five more times after that, his arm holding nothing back with each blow, the leather cracking as it cut into her and causing her body to sway in the air.
“Please stop!” Megan cried, tears running down her checks.
Jimmy paused for a moment and then came around and wrapped the belt around her throat and pulled.
Megan couldn’t breathe at all.
“I could do this all night and would if you two didn’t smell so bad. Tomorrow morning I’m going to clean you with soap whether you like it or not and then will whip you again just so you remember how it feels. Samantha too.”
He let go and she struggled for air, her violent gasps completely audible.
Jimmy gave Samantha five good strikes after that, each one causing her to scream, and then let her shirt fall back down over her body, one which wasn’t completely soaked like Megan’s clothes were.
He then let her down so that she was on her knees. The position would still be incredibly painful, but nowhere near as bad as hanging from the wrists, or even standing.
Please let me down too, Megan said to herself, her body already starting to shiver with the cold wet clothes. Please.
Jimmy did let her down enough so that her toes could support her weight a bit; though she was sure it wasn’t a result of her thoughts.
* * *
Jimmy looked at the torn fingernail on his left hand in what was left of the sunlight in the Hood’s yard and grimaced. The nail had gotten caught on Megan’s pants while she had been twisting away from him, either on the button or the zipper, and before he even realized it the nail had ripped.
At first the rip didn’t hurt all that much since the nail itself didn’t have any nerves, but then as the air started touching the sensitive skin beneath, and as the area near the cuticle realized the nail had split down into the root, the pain arrived and it was bad. Anger followed but it did little to mask the throb pulsating from the middle finger.
Had it been his right hand he wouldn’t have been able to do much more in the fallout shelter, but since it wasn’t he still had been able to whip Megan. The actions weren’t pleasurable though which is why he hadn’t gone all out. Instead it had felt like a necessary task, one which he had wanted to finish quickly so he could head home and tend to his finger.
Most of my visits feel like necessary task, Jimmy realized. Almost as if they are pets that I no longer want but need to take care of.
It was frustrating. His fantasies had never detailed any of this stuff. Instead he had always seen the girls hanging from their wrists and doing whatever he ordered them to do, their minds too weak and scared to even consider the possibility of disobeying him.
Go back in, cut off her cloths, and leave her hanging naked all night.
Jimmy considered this for a long time but ultimately vetoed the idea, mostly because it seemed like too much of a hassle at the moment. He also had never really cared much for nudity. It seemed boring. He would much rather force her into some humiliating fetish outfit and leave her there. That wasn’t a possibility either.
Still, you should have done something more.
Tomorrow morning he would punish her, that is, if he wasn’t too tired after cleaning them again.
He took another look at his finger and then headed into the woods to get his bike. Once that was in hand he started walking toward the street and was just exiting the yard when a sheriff deputy cruiser drove by.
He froze.
The cruiser continued forward for several feet and then came to a halt.
Run!
The impulse was strong, but he didn’t give in to it, his eyes having seen enough real life police shows to know such action was foolish. Instead he stood his ground as if he had done nothing wrong and waited for the deputy to back up.
A second later he was face to face with Deputy Paul Widgeon who just happened to be the youngest law enforcement official with the Sheriff Department, one who had been honorably discharged from the military two years earlier after serving three combat tours. The guy was a town hero, one who everyone had welcomed home after his military discharge with a huge barbecue behind the Mayor’s Office. It had been fun.
“Hey Jimmy,” Paul said. “What are you doing out and about?”
“Just riding my bike,” Jimmy said. His heart was racing even though he knew Paul well. When he and Alan had been younger and Paul in high school the guy would help them organize games of capture the flag in the woods.
“Looks more like you’re walking your bike.”
“Yeah, that’s because I fell,” Jimmy said. He held up his finger. “Look.”
“Ouch,” Paul said. “Let me get the first aid kit and fix that up for you.”
“Oh don’t worry about it; I know you guys are busy. I’ll just clean it at home.”
“Nonsense.” Paul popped the trunk and got out, the limp he had came home with from the war just barely visible thanks to all the hours he spent conditioning it. “I’ll have it cleaned up in no time.”
Jimmy sighed. This was the last thing he wanted or needed, especially this close to the fallout shelter.
“You’ve been riding your bike quite a bit I hear,” Paul said. “Trying to get in shape for something?”
Jimmy shrugged. “More like I’m really restless and am not sure what I want to do now that school is pretty much over. I’ll be graduating soon and have no plans really.”
“I know what you mean.” He took hold of Jimmy’s hand and looked at the finger. “Ah, not too bad. Hurts like a son-of-a-bitch though I bet.”
“It does.”
Paul gently touched the uplifted part of fingernail. “I’ll have to cut this part off completely,” he said. “It’ll hurt for a moment, but will feel much better once everything is bandaged up, okay?”
“Um . . . okay,” Jimmy said.
He watched while Paul pulled out a small pair of scissors from the First Aid Kit and got them positioned to cut away the torn part of nail.
“Hold still,” Paul ordered.
Jimmy did.
The first cut wasn’t so bad, but then the scissors pressed into the nail bed and everything went white hot and it was all Jimmy could do not to jerk his hand away. Thankfully it didn’t last long. Two quick snips and the flipped up part of torn nail that would have snagged on everything was gone.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Paul said.
Jimmy glared at him.
“Let me just wrap that up and you’ll be on your way.” Paul started wrapping the finger. “By the way, any idea what could have happened to those two girls?”
“What?”
“You’ve been riding your bike so much I wondered if maybe you saw something,” Paul said. His hands pressed down hard on Jimmy’s finger with the gauze so that it wouldn’t slip free.
“Yeah, but I never saw anything and I heard they were taken when they were walking home from school, so me and Alan probably weren’t even home yet.”
“That’s the theory at least. The last place anyone ever saw the two was at school so we assume they were taken while walking home.” He paused to tear a strip of white tape. “This is the road they would have been taken on; at least, this is the road Samantha King should have been walking home on. Did you know that?”
Jimmy was going to say no but then realized that couldn’t possibly be true given all the talk at school and instead said, “Yeah, I’d heard that.”
“What I can’t figure it who would do such a thing?” Paul asked. “If it had just been Samantha King then I could see someone just coming into town and grabbing the first girl he saw. But you’d think they would leave town right away, not stay around and grab another girl. Too risky, don’t you think?”
Jimmy nodded.
“That’s why I believe it’s someone in town.”
“But who?” Jimmy asked.
“That’s the question, isn’t it? Who could do something like this? Makes you wonder what goes on behind closed doors.”
“Yeah, ahhh!”
“Sorry, had to press the tape down into it so it sticks.”
“Wasn’t expecting it,” Jimmy said.
“The gauze pad is medicated too so you don’t have to worry about disinfecting it, just make sure you take everything off in a day or two and put on a fresh bandage.”
“Okay.”
“And be careful. I know you say you didn’t see anything, but you might not realize you did see something and the person or persons responsible for all this might come after you.”
“Okay,” Jimmy said again.
“In fact, maybe it would be better if you rode on the other side of town since this area seems to be the focal point of everything.”
“I really like this area though.”
“Suit yourself, just be cautious. I don’t want anyone else to disappear or get hurt.”
“I appreciate that and will be extra careful.” You have no idea just how careful I will be.
“Great. Can you make it home from here or do you need a ride back?”
Jimmy didn’t want to get into the car. “I’m fine.” To prove it he jumped up onto the bike. “See.” He tried not to show how much his finger hurt when gripping the handle, but had a feeling he didn’t do a very good job because it hurt like hell.
“I see,” Paul said. “Be safe.”
Jimmy wanted to ask him if they had any suspects but figured that would be too much at the moment and simply started riding home.
Paul followed for a while, but then turned at the next intersection.
Jimmy sighed. He had had enough close calls at the Hood place for a while. Hopefully his trips there would be uneventful from this point on.
* * *
Deputy Paul Widgeon followed Jimmy Hawthorn on his bike until the first intersection and then made a right turn at Elm as if he were planning on patrolling another area, but really was just using the road to wrap around to the left, the three way intersection half a mile down making this possible, one which eventually connected back to the road the Hood place was on.
Paul slowed the vehicle as it came upon a turn off that dead ended into a cul-de-sac five houses down, the house to the right of the center being the King household. Like all the houses along the right side of this road their home backed up into the woods, ones that didn’t end until they came upon the farm fields a few miles away. The houses on the left also backed up into the woods, but those stretches eventually opened up into other backyards on the north side of town, properties that gradually got bigger and bigger as they headed south toward the Hood place.
After a moment Paul continued his journey back to the Hood house, his eyes noting the last house before their property began about half a mile from the actual home. The land had been in the Hood family a long time and a decade earlier it could have made them rich beyond their wildest dreams if they had sold it to developers. Now no one would buy it, the last new house having been built back when Paul was in Iraq, back before Wall Street had gone into its first nosedive.
Jimmy, what were you doing out here? Paul asked himself while pulling up alongside the Hood’s crumbling driveway. What were you hiding from me?
Jimmy’s story about falling off his bike had been bullshit because fingernails wouldn’t tear outward when impacting the ground from a fall. Plus he had had no other wounds on his body, not fresh ones anyway, and if he truly had taken all the impact of a fall on his hand like that, the broken fingernail would have been the least of his pains. Nothing had been broken though, a fact made obvious by the way Paul had been able to twist his hand back and forth while bandaging it. It also hadn’t been swollen. So now the question was what had Jimmy been doing that would leave him with a torn finger?
No answer would arrive without a little investigating, so he got out and walked around. He was pretty sure that whatever had happened to Jimmy’s finger had happened on this property because why come here after the fact - unless he had been going home from the school and took the old wooded path. Of course such a situation would bring up two more questions the first being what would he had been doing at the school after hours, the second being why he would head home on this path when taking the sidewalk provided to him would be much faster.
Could he have snagged his finger while riding, which is why there were no other injuries?
Paul asked himself this while in the backyard, his eyes looking at the thick brush everywhere. If one were cutting though that on their bike it would be possible to get a stick caught up under the fingernail and rip it outward, but then why lie about falling?
And why was he out in the woods to begin with?
He knew Jimmy had been riding his bike a lot. He had witnessed it a few times this past week, and others had as well, most concerned by the very idea Paul had planted in Jimmy’s head about him being a target in case he had seen something he didn’t realize. Paul, however also wondered if Jimmy could have had anything to do with the two girls having disappeared. Most in the department didn’t think a high school student could be behind something like that, but Paul knew differently. Paul had been overseas and had seen what people his age were capable off. Hell, Jimmy was eighteen and that had been the age Paul had been the first time he had ever killed someone, his eyes fascinated by the damage the grenade had done in the room where the insurgent had been waiting.
If another girl is reported missing this evening maybe . . . an image of a fingernail being ripped in a struggle filled his head.
Nothing behind the house pointed toward a struggle and so far all the reports of missing children that afternoon had been false alarms - most being the result of a late bus home from school, and one due to a parent that forgot their daughter had work that evening.
Paul’s radio came to life while he was walking behind the old shed on the corner of the Hood property and reported a car accident on the other side of town, one which sounded pretty bad.
“I can be there in eight minutes,” Paul said into the radio and quickly hurried back to his patrol car, thoughts on Jimmy Hawthorn and the missing girls quickly disappearing from his mind.
* * *
Brett sat in his room for a long time that night watching the videos Jimmy had thrown away, his mind playing with ideas on how to use the tapes against him. Earlier he had seen his stupid little girlfriend in the hallway during some odd commotion; one which had involved a deputy being called to the school and wondered what would happen if he gave some of the tapes to her.
What if she likes this stuff too and gets all freaky with Jimmy? Hell the two probably were making their own tapes and posting them on some obscure website.
Still, he wanted Jimmy to know he had these tapes and the best way to do that was to give one to the girl. And if it turned out she didn’t know about the tapes or how sick and twisted Jimmy was it would be even better because she would probably dump him right before the prom.
Now if only Jimmy were in some of these tapes.
Sadly he didn’t think this would be the case. If it was he would have made plans to somehow show the tape during the dance, maybe on a projector screen or something so that everyone could see what a freak he was.
On screen he watched as a girl was lifted off the ground by her wrists and then tormented with a pink vibrator. Kneeling next to her was another girl, this one sucking the man’s dick while he used the vibrator on the first girl.
Brett couldn’t believe people enjoyed stuff like this, especially people like the girls in the video. It was sick.
At the same time he wondered what he would do if he was one of those guys and knew he could do whatever he wanted with them. Would he join in? If so he wouldn’t have to live with the disgrace of still being a virgin, something that weighed heavily on his mind day in and day out, especially since he knew Matt was no longer one, the jerk having scored some p-ssy with his coworker at the video store last year.
It pissed him off.