Highway To Hell

Chapter 14

   "Okay! Okay! Just don't cut off my dick!" he pleads and I smile, kissing his cheek. He shudders. I pull back with a grin, his blood on my lips.

   "That's what I like to hear, Randall." I bring the knife back to his chest. "Go on."

   "They have weapons. Heavy stuff, automatics. But I didn't do anything!"

   "Randall, baby," I nearly gag as I settle my weight on his legs, purposely sitting on his wound, "I already asked you not to lie to me. You know I don't like it and you know I was there. You shot at my people. People I care about. So did the others you were with. Don't make me take your other ear." He sobs. "Now, you said thirty guys earlier," I say sweetly. "Does that mean there aren't any women or children?" I ask.

   "No. There are women and children. Just like you people. Look, these people took me in. I thought I'd have a better chance with them than on my own." He gulps and doesn't meet my eyes. "But we go out to scavenge. Just the men. One night we found this little campsite." Dread immediately starts building in me, along with a lot of anger. "A man and his daughters - teenagers, you know? Real young. Real cute." He looks at me and the first hint of pleasure seeps into his eyes since I came over. "Like you." His eyes roam me and I slam the hilt of the knife into his jaw at the same time Daryl wrenches his head up by the hair. Randall coughs, spitting out blood. "Their daddy had to watch while these guys - they - and they didn't even kill him afterwards. They just made him watch as his daughters . . . just left him there. But I didn't touch those girls. No, I swear I didn't."

    Daryl's foot connects with Randall's injured leg and he cries out. I can feel the rage pouring off Daryl and it only fuels my own. I yank Randall up again, not completely dropping my sweet girl persona, but letting a little of the malice shine through.

   "You know what I hate more than liars, Randall?" He whimpers in response. "Rapists." My knife slowly lowers back to his crotch.

   "No! I swear I didn't touch those girls! I didn't lay a hand on them."

   "Tell me something, Randall. If things went the other way back in town, the men I was with killed or captured and I was left helpless, what would have happened to me? Would you have watched? Or would you have joined in?" I press the tip of the knife down hard and he cries out. "Did you enjoy hearing them scream? Hearing them beg? 'No. Stop. Please. Help.' Sounds a bit like you doesn't it?" My voice is soft, but full of a mixture of rage and sweetness. His eyes meet mine and for a split second I see something I've seen many many time before, something I've even seen reflected back in the mirror at times; pure evil. Not the kind created by the monsters of the supernatural world, but mankind's special brand of it. It's there and gone, along with a smug grin, but I catch it. He didn't stand aside as those girls were assaulted. He was part of it. He loved it. I smile and impale his dick on my knife.

Daryl and I leave the shed about a half hour later. I'd gotten my answers and was content to let Daryl beat the guy the rest of the time. 

   I gag and wipe the blood from my lips. I've had monster blood on my face and even on my mouth before, but his seems particularly fowl.

   "What happened?" he asks. 

   "What do you mean?"

   "Anyone that is so willing to hurt and kill others the way you do has had something or multiple somethings happen in their life." He glances down at me. "What happened?"

   I snort. "Torture then a heart to heart, Daryl?" He shrugs and we walk in silence for a moment.

   "How old are you anyway?" he asks.

   "Fourteen," I answer and he glances down at me again.

   "Huh," is all he says in reply as we reach the others. "Boy there's got a gang. Thirty men."