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Bring The Kids (As Day Fades & vertigis)

As Day Fades

As Day Fades

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Feb 7, 2009
Once upon a time someone died.

It was sad, and tragic, but life went on. It was the first major incident Thunder Hills Family Amusement Park had experienced in fourteen years of operation up to that point, so while the family of the victim grieved, and the family that owned it offered their condolences, the paying public gave only a small amount of concern, continuing their patronage while a legal battle was handled behind closed doors. Then, seven months later, another person died. Four months after that, a third. It still hadn't been decided if the park was at fault for the first, but with three deaths in the span of eleven months the newspapers ripped the place apart, public opinion shifted the exact opposite way, and the owners had no choice but to close the doors, hoping one day to rebrand and relaunch.

Seven years later and the large, thick links of the chain that bound its front double gate together had gained a generous amount of rust.

Named for its roller coasters, various other thrill rides and overall just the roar of the patrons, Thunder Hills was a number of miles away from anything else. Several miles of paved road saw little but trees surrounding you on either side, till an eventual turn gave way to its expansive parking lot, and many of the attractions in the distance could finally be seen without the trees.

It was a ghost town now though, and now and then people literally treated it as such, spooking out friends or kids with tales of the place where three ghosts haunted. Whether or not that was true, it would certainly prove creepy enough, gates closed and covered in rust, most doors inside having some sort of squeak. If you stopped to take it all in it may have been the most quiet, serene place in the world. Considering the rest of the atmosphere, though, it came down to personal opinion as to whether or not that was actually good.
 
It had been Renee's idea of course. None of the rest of them had even heard of anything called a Thunder Hills Amusement Park until she mentioned it. Renee was always reading though, always digging around online and at the college library, and she loved collecting little bits of weird and esoteric information. Particularly if there was something creepy about a thing. Mel had known her since they were kids, had considered Renee her best friend since grade school at least, and she’d always been that way. So there was no way they were going to drive within a dozen miles of something like Thunder Hills and not at least stop t look.

And it was creepy. Absolutely one hundred percent vintage creepy. Just the huge vacant parking was bad enough in Mel's opinion. It was the middle of the afternoon on a hot July afternoon, the sun still high overhead, but there wasn’t a sign of life anywhere to be seen. The lot was barren and gave the look of something long forgotten by time, weeds sprouting up wildly through the numerous cracks left un-patched over the years.

"Hey, I think I know what those people must have died from. Fucking boredom from driving here." Tamara had been complaining for the last few hours and everyone had taken to ignoring her now. She hadn't wanted to detour from their planned route just to see some junked old park. The sooner they got to the beach the better, she'd argued, and Mel had privately agreed, but had taken Renee's side anyways, because of their long friendship. Tamara was her dorm roommate, and she'd really only invited the tall abrasive black girl along on their summer road trip because she'd felt obligated. Plus she was hard enough to get along with without telling her 'no'. "Why'd they build it in the middle of nowhere? Rednecks must really love their carnie rides or something."

Mel rolled her eyes and moved to join Renee, who was busy snapping pictures of the old roller coaster rails with her camera. As they approached the rusted gates, they were greeted by a large grinning sculpture of a cat's head hanging overhead, obviously some kind mascot for the park. Years of neglect had left its black and white paint peeling and one of its yellow eyes broken out to become a home for nesting birds. Renee tested the chains with a rattle and frowned as she found them quite sturdy despite the rust.

"We're not really going in there are we?" Shanti asked nervously. She was Renee's roommate and Mel wasn't sure if she'd ever met anyone as quiet and reserved as the little Indian girl. She thought it was nice of her friend to invite her along really, even if she was hard to really have a conversation with because of her shyness.

"Of course we're going in," Renee replied firmly. "We didn't come all this way just to get pictures of the parking lot. Aren't you curious?"

Mel could tell by Shanti's expression the answer to that was a resounding 'no' but the girl only shrugged.

"Well, I didn't bring any bolt cutters so…"

There was a loud rattle as the metal gate shook wildly. Mel's younger sister Christy had made it up and over in just two quick motions, and stood grinning on the other side. Apparently all those track and soccer trophies their parents were always bragging about weren't just for show, she thought dryly.

"C'mon then," Renee called, "give me a boost!" Tamara muttered something about them all getting tetanus before the day was over but within short order all five of the girls had hopped the gate and found themselves standing inside the abandoned amusement park.

"Now let's explore," her friend called excitedly, tugging at her sleeve, and reluctantly Mel followed along. It wouldn't take too long, she told herself. Just a little walk around and then they'd all be back on the road, headed to someplace sunny and fun for the summer…
 
Some...something about bolt cutters, and... He shifted, laying there in a mess.

'C'mon then, give me a boost!'

His eyes blinked open, albeit languidly. He sat up in the little wooden ticket booth just a ways inside the park's gate. A few glass bottles clattered together around him, stuffed into the tight confines of a booth that was really only large enough for a person to stand in, with a few waist-high counters and shelves and plexiglass windows that were busted in parts. He sat up, rubbed at his face and looked around, one of the bottles rolling down his leg and now out onto the ground, clattering lightly as it moved along the rough, gravelly surface. Next came a food wrapper he whipped away from his chest, then he sat up a bit more and brought his eyebrows together, rubbing sloppily at his face.

There were light sounds that sounded like...girls. The fuck? Crouching, as he was already down that far anyway, he looked around, blinking hard several times and forcing his eyes open wide. Nothing in front of him, leading into the park. He shifted around and peeked his head up inside the booth, behind its plexiglass, and saw...four. No, no, there was - damn, there was five! "What the fuck," to himself. What the fuck was this? He watched the last two hop the fence inside and all of them stand around for a moment, then one of them happily calling out, 'Now let's explore!'

A couple things went through his mind quickly. First was mushrooms, but that theory was quickly dismissed as it clearly was, like, the middle of the day out, and those would have worn off hours ago while he slept. Next was sex, because what the hell was this, there was a group of decent looking bitches that just appeared out of nowhere! Third was how much shit he'd suddenly be in if he couldn't get hold of all five, and one or two ran away, telling the cops this place wasn't a hundred percent empty.

So before any of them was close enough to spot him he poofed. Keeping tucked low to the ground in a crouch he slipped out of the ticket booth, multi-colored spiked mohawk making things a tad difficult, his thin chest covered in a white tank top that gave way to tattoos along his shoulders, arms and neck. Giving one more quick glance behind him, he dashed off, still in a crouch until he tucked around a building on the right, then standing, in full in, leaving the five young women alone just inside the large double-sided gate.
 
“Did anyone else hear something?” Tamara asked, glancing back the way they’d came before turning to the others. Nobody was paying her any mind though. The overenthusiastic little redhead was tugging on Mel's arm while Christy was trotting out ahead of them both, holding out her arms as she spun in a circle like an idiot, taking in the whole park in one glance and laughing at some joke between the three.

Annoying bitches. They were really kind of were, Tamara decided privately, mostly irritated at being ignored and left out of the loop again. Mel was an okay roommate but her friend Renee was a freak. What the fuck were they even doing here when they could instead be somewhere with crowded beaches, hot guys, and plenty of good food and strong beer? Somewhere that didn't smell like mildew and failure.

"I heard something…"

Tamara glanced down at Shanti and arched a darkly penciled brow. It was the first thing the girl had said to her the whole trip practically, her mousy little voice barely even audible.

"Like glass or something? Maybe a bottle…?"

She looked at the girl a moment longer then shrugged, losing interest. Really she'd just been trying to get a reaction from the others. Shanti would have to do though. "Whatever. Probably nothing. This whole detour is stupid. Who wants to see some shit old amusement park? I'm surprised they haven't torn the place down. It’s like a death trap or something."

“Me too,” Shanti agreed before flushing lightly, as if she’d said something wrong. “That they haven’t torn it down, I mean.”

Inwardly, Tamara rolled her eyes at the girl’s awkwardness, before sighing and moving off to check the nearby rides, mainly meant to target younger children from the looks of them. Spotting an old carousal, she admired the creepy look of the horses with their open mouths, lolling tongues, and big black eyes, the garish paint peeling in the hot sun. Producing a lighter from her handbag, she lit a cigarette, grinning faintly when Shanti shook her head when offered one. No, of course she wouldn’t.

“Shouldn’t we stay with the others?”

“Pft, fuck that,” Tamara announced, slapping her hands against the bars of the carousal, before moving on to the next ride, peeking in at the old bumper cars before moving on quickly. The dark-skinned business major was the tallest of the five girls at five nine, shapely and athletic, not quite as aggressively fit as Christy, but she’d played tennis in high school and still ran regularly. The contrast with caramel-toned Shanti, at five four with a soft and curvy build that showed little muscle, was fairly stark. “I’m not wandering around this park waiting for something to fall on my head. Let them go.”

Meanwhile Mel and her sister had in fact slowly receded from sight along with Renee, moving deeper into the old park where the distant decaying signs promised such wonders as a House of Mirrors, a Museum of Horror, and even a Lovers' Tunnel. None of it interested Tamara though. She debated maybe just waiting back in the car, puffing on her cigarette as she checked her phone in boredom.
 
"Yo, there's someone in tHE FUCKING PARK!"

What was it, noon? Ten? One? It was well into the day, whatever hour it was, and the multicolored mohawked Jake turned into what had once been a nice Spanish-themed family restaurant, now turned into the general hangout place people got messed up and slept in, that's exactly what he saw. The other six guys that had been staying here were all laying asleep. Most were on the floor, chairs and tables pushed to the sides, but fuckin' leave it to Brody to be the one that always actually slept on a table. Something about his back.

"Nnhgn...shuhh fuckup..." One of the guys groaned.

"I'm fuckin' serious! There's fuckin' five of 'em! Wake up!" Jake went about giving the guys a few good kicks and shoves, one or two to each then he jumped to the next. This met mostly with groans, and the most primordial signs of life as each man started shuffling in their makeshift bed.

"What the fuck is it? Cops?" This was the first man, sitting up, rubbing his face now.

"Naw, it's just some chicks."

"-Wait, what?"

"Yeah. Tch, two black chicks I think with 'em too."

"Wait, so there's seven?" This was another of the guys, starting to come to and catch on.

"No," Jake turned, "just the five. But still, they can't fuckin' be in here!"

"Alright, everybody WAKE UP!" The first, heftier man shouted. He shifted, one palm on the floor, and pushed himself to a briefly dizzy stand. "When was this? Just now? Where are they?"

"Yeah, and are they hot?" Another chimed in, bringing a light round of laughter.

Jake snickered. "Didn't get much of a look. But yeah, just now. I saw them climbing over the front gate."
 
“Gotta pee,” Christy piped up suddenly, dropping down from the old guardrail where she'd been sitting. Renee was busy snapping photographs of some old amusement park ride that looked a little like a giant teeter-totter with rows of seats on each end. She was saying something about how a girl had apparently fallen to her death on it because of a flaw in how the safety harnesses worked. Renee said she's been literally thrown out of her seat and right down to the pavement, splat, with a kind of gleam in her eyes. Gross.

“She was only the first person to die here though. There were two others and…”

“So I’m going then,” Christy interrupted, a little louder this time. Renee paid her no mind but Mel offered a nod and a wave at least.

“See if you can find Tamara and Shanti and bring them back, okay?”

“Nah,” Christy answered back with a laugh, having no intention hunting down either one. Shanti was boring, and she could tell Tamara hadn’t wanted her along from the start. She was the only girl in their group still under drinking age at eighteen after all, and she knew it was only because of her sister that she’d been invited at all. It was Mel’s car, so she made the rules on who came and who stayed, thankfully.

She’d missed her sister a lot since she’d gone off to college. They’d never had a lot in common, really, but she’d always looked up to Melanie. She’d been super popular, a cheerleader and prom queen, but wasn’t at all bitchy about it like you’d think. Most everyone thought she was easy to get along with and she’d often taken the time to help Christy out with her schoolwork or drive her to her various practices when the parents were busy. A lot of older sisters wouldn’t even have thought to invite their little sister along on a trip like this. It was cool of Mel.

At five foot five, Christy was slight girl, small busted and slim hipped but terrifically fit with lean long legs and thighs well-muscled from her frequent running. All the time out of doors had left the brunette richly tanned, a fact she liked to show off with her tight jean shorts and exposed mid-riff. Winding back the way they’d come, she spotted the same sign she’d seen before pointing to the bathrooms and headed that way.

There were two buildings. The door to the women’s was chained up tight but the men’s was open. Someone appeared to have hacked through the lock. Christy bent down to pick up the length of rusted chain, swinging it in her hand, not thinking all that much of it as she stepped inside. The smell nearly bowled her over. “Erggh,” she gagged, placing her free hand over her nose and mouth as she looked around the room. A window slit above the sinks let in just enough light that she could see around. It was full of empty beer bottles and wadded up toilet paper and someone had scrawled graffiti all over the mirrors and walls. ‘Brody’ read one of the scrawls alongside a Nazi sign and some other symbols she didn’t recognize.

“Gross,” she mumbled, slowly moving from stall to stall, trying to find one that wasn’t a complete disaster.
 
Christy's fate was sealed from a mile away - well, a hundred yards, at least. It wasn't hard to tell even from a distance that it was one of their visitors the group of men saw as they stormed forth at a fast, meaningful pace. All of their group was right here and accounted for. That and, even at this distance where specifics couldn't be made out, you didn't mix up the curves of a broad. They pointed and clamored amongst themselves as the brunette disappeared into the bathroom.

"No, no, wait," after some back and forth, "don't be retards. Rainbow Brite here said there were five-"

"Fuuuck youuu," a drawn out, meaningless retort to that fucking nickname Jake had been given due to his hair.

"-Was that one of 'em?"

"I guess. Shit, I don't know."

"Well that's only one there. We don't need a whole bunch to go after 'er. Brody, Cregg, you two go handle it," the whole group still walking, the big man amongst them quickly giving orders.

Two of the men split off as they were told while the rest headed for the entrance of the park. Most had pistols shoved into the back of their pants or tucked in the front underneath their shirt. Some had a chain, knife or club they carried - one of each of those, actually - while two of the remaining five just gripped their fists.

- - - -​

They stepped into the men's room carefully, boots sounding unavoidably on the sticky, filthy tile at times, quiet at others. Brody had a set of brass knuckles on each hand. Cregg was a guy ready to just use his fists. They stepped about the bathroom quietly, flashing eye contact back and forth to each other, talking with hands rather than voice. The stalls were on the left. Urinals on the right, though those were obviously unoccupied. The sinks lined along the back, including to the left to where a nook of the last two and the hand driers weren't readily visible. The guys carefully circled around here, to find...nothing.

Then one peeked beneath the line of stalls.

Feet, second stall in. Plus there was the sound now of her peeing.

Cregg was getting ready to kick in the door. With a hand gripping his arm he stopped, looking to a grinning Brody. The bald headed one, ears pierced with their thick black holes in the lobes, stepped to where he was about two feet out from the front of the closed stall door. He undid his pants, pulled out his shaft, and started to piss, aiming his stream in a moment of pure fun to be a man so that it arched up, over the stall door, raining down inside.

- - - -​

Back at the entrance the world suddenly came crashing down in the form of the sound of rushing boots, and a black, lacquered wooden club suddenly striking the side of Shanti's face. Immediately after a chain swung down to viciously strike her along the back, and a third man grabbed her by the hair with a set of hands, twisting, whipping the Indian girl to the floor.

Beside them the two others stopped, one unarmed, the other with a knife, both of them shouting. For the moment Tamara wasn't being acknowledged, if she'd even been noticed yet.
 
Christy was almost certain she heard the bathroom door quietly ease open but didn’t think much of it. There was no reason for her to suspect anyone other Mel, come to check on her, or one of her sister’s college friends needing to use the facilities after the long road trip. The graffiti on the walls and the discarded refuse littering the floors could have been left by anyone over the years since the park closed. Morbid sightseers had probably been coming to Thunder Hills for years now. There was no reason to think the people who’d left it were still here.

She listened closely, eyes adjusting in the dim light as she watched the floor. A footstep, definitely a footstep, but then everything grew deathly quiet against and she was less sure. Christy was about to call out to Mel when finally she felt herself start to let go, the trickle of her own pee drowning out any other sound. There’d been no toilet paper in any of the stalls and she wouldn’t have trusted it anyways, so she was left squatting awkwardly over the bowl, rather than actually sitting on the filthy seat. The experience of being in here was definitely going to go down as one of the nastiest she’d experienced.

She had no idea just how nasty though.

Christy jumped as she felt something wet strike the top of her head. Glancing up reflexively, it splashed against her cheek and then worked its way down, speckling her top and then spraying across her thighs. The stream remained steady at the point, soaking into her panties and shorts where they stretched around her thighs. An acrid smell stung her nostrils, and suddenly Christy realized just what she was being drenched in. "Hey! What the f-" Trying to stand too quickly, she slipped, falling back against the stool and hitting the floor hard, her hands skidding through wads of old tissue and who knew what else.

"You fucking asshole, y-" Her voice died off as, from her position on the floor, she saw the boots just outside the stall, two sets of them. Fear began to creep in then. "Hey… Who's out there?"

*****

"So where you from anyway?"

"Um, Carsonville," Shanti answered, swinging her legs from she was sitting on the edge of the carousal. Despite being the hottest part of July, she was dressed quite conservatively in a long sleeved yellow pullover and loose jeans over pink and yellow tennis shoes. "It's not very big. You probably never heard of it…"

Tamara rolled her eyes. "That's not what I meant. What are you, like, Lebanese or Columbian or something?"

"Oh." The girl blushed slightly. "My father used to live in Calcutta, I think. That was when he was young though. I was born here." It was true she didn't have much of an accent.

"So are you like, Hindi, or Muslim, or whatever?"

Shanti nodded slowly. "My whole family is Isl-"

There wasn't any time to react, not even any time to turn around, they were just there, all of them at once almost. The club struck Shanti in the face with an audible crack and she was immediately surrounded. Tamara saw the chain rise up in the air, over the heads of the men, and then descend again with a dull thud. The cigarette fell from between her lips, dropping unto the hot asphalt.

She did the only reasonable thing in the situation. She left Shanti behind and ran. With her long toned legs, made fit from years of running and a tennis, Tamara was very fast. Unfortunately her clothes were all wrong for it. Her tight mid-thigh denim skirt restricted her movements and her open toed sandals threatened to trip her up every time they slapped against the ground. Her handbag, which included her phone and even a can of pepper spay if only she'd thought to grab it, was tossed aside as the young black woman raced deeper into the park. "Mel!! Oh, God… Help! Help!!"
 
The thud of a body slipping and hitting several things on its way to the floor was unmistakable. If that wasn't enough, there was the sound of her voice too, its more feminine tone easily discerned through the heavier male laughter. What she'd see next were a set of dreadlocks that dangled briefly to the floor, then the head they belonged to, dirty blond and with a light beard along his face in a thin goatee and chinstrap.

Two hands reached beneath the door of the bathroom stall, gripping her by the hair. They hadn't been washed in weeks.

Nothing in this place had been washed in far, far longer. Next she was pulled by her hair, tugged harshly along the grimy tile out into the open part of the bathroom.

"Lloookkiiee what IIII ffoouunnndddd~" Cregg chimed in sing-song fashion. Brody was still laughing, and still holding his dick in his hand. The stream had stopped momentarily when the other man started pulling her out, but now that she was right there in front of him, the perfect target, what the hell? He started pissing again. And laughed just as heartily as before - they both did - he aiming his stream now at Christy's bare girl ass, then quickly up her back, to the back of her head, right in her hair. The last, weaker drops trickled out against the side of her face as Cregg grabbed her by a shoulder, physically encouraging her onto her back now.

"Hey, you think she likes it?" Cregg snickered. "She said a swear - I heard it! She's already talkin' dirty to us man!"


- - - -​


The assault on Shanti had come quick, immediate. The young Indian woman's introduction to the fact that they weren't along here was a solid wooden club cracking across the side of her face. Before time had allotted for those two sudden truths to even process, a thick length of heavy chain had swung against the center of her back, against her spine, and a third man had jerked her head by her long dark hair, forcing the rest of her body to come with it to the ground.

Then they started kicking her. One was in the front, kicking her in the gut. Another was behind her, kicking her in the ass, in the back of the legs. The third still held her by the hair. He kicked her two or three times in the back and stood one foot on her shoulder after that, to help keep her in place should she decide there's some fight in herself. There was yelling too. Lots of yelling. Loud. Shouting.

It wasn't until Tamara started running off that any of the men had noticed her. A moment later a, "Fuck! Get the other nigger chick!" was yelled, an arm extended and finger pointed, and the two standing off to the side turned, dashing off after her.

They were a good fifty, maybe sixty feet away from her, but both could apparently run pretty decent, and neither of them was in sandals or a skirt. One did have a knife, though.
 
Christy froze as a man’s face appeared under the stall door, scruffy beard and filthy tangled dreadlocks discernable even in the low light. Her brain had trouble processing it though. They were men and they were here in the park, yet there hadn’t been any other cars in the lot when they arrived. Maybe they were squatters or bums or something was all she could think. Don’t act scared, she tried to convince herself. Despite the nasty little trick they’d just pulled, things didn’t necessarily have to get worse.

But they did.

“Ahh!” she shrieked as pair of grimy hands shot under the stall and grabbed hold of her long brown hair. The fact she had it drawn back into a pony tail made it even easier for the man to latch hold and tug her out by brute force, her legs kicking wildly as she slid across the floor, wads of damp toilet paper and various discarded filth clinging to her back.

Her fingers tried to grab onto door but slipped clumsily and she quickly found her at the feet of the two men. More urine splashed against her bare ass and trailed up her back, leaving a wet trail on her top, before dousing her hair. Christy was sputtering and crying as the flipped her over, tears welling up in her startled brown eyes. Why the fuck were they doing this? Who were these psychos?

“You…you assholes!” she sputtered, swiping a hand across her cheek where he’d let his piss dribble down, laughing. “What is wrong with you?!” Christy glanced from one to the other, the little knot in her stomach growing double in size as she realized just what a bad situation she was in suddenly. “L-look…you freaks…I’m, I’m with a group! There’s a lot of us here, some guys too,” she lied with surprising quickness, frightened eyes darting between their faces, “…like college guys, football players, they’ll…they’ll beat the shit out of you. And…call the cops…” Christy trailed off, breathing heavily, her hands poised over her chest defensively. “So better leave me alone…”



****

Tamara’s long legs raced as fast they could away from where the men had gathered Shanti‘s huddled form. A glance over her shoulder confirmed that she was being chased. Two of them, slowly gaining, a knife glinting in one of the men’s hand. Jesus Christ, oh shit, oh fuck! Spotting a row of buildings, she turned in that direction, tugging desperately at the doors of each one as she passed. Locked, chained, boarded up. Finally one flung open when she jerked at the handle and she quickly ducked inside.

Panting heavily, fighting not to panic, tears streaming down her cheeks from her sudden terror, Tamara glanced around the dim room. She was standing in some kind of gift shop. There were rows of empty shelves and hangar racks, some even holding merchandize that been left behind when the park closed, such a stuffed animal shaped like a cat, coated in a thick layer of dust, and a row of children’s T-shirts that read “Thunder Hills - The Ride of Your Life!” on the front. Her sandals slapping on the filthy floor, she hurried to the opposite door and grasped the handle, fingertips leaving smudgy impressions in the dusty handle.

A sudden idea thought came to her then and, glancing back towards the door, knowing they’d be bursting through it any moment, she headed back into the shop. There was a confectionary stand located near the center, a grimy popcorn machine and empty soda dispenser still in evidence, and she quickly checked through the cabinets. They were all empty of course, except for some discarded cardboard boxes and giant plastic bags used for delivering the popcorn. Finally she found what she wanting though, one large enough to fit a girl her size, and she climbed into it, pulling the cabinet door shut.

Covering her nose and mouth with her hand to stifle her heavy breathing, Tamara waited anxiously, listening as the door banged open and the men piled in. She prayed that they’d assume she kept running, out the back, and deeper into the park. Please, please, please…
 
"You assholes," one of them mocked in a light, female tone of voice.

The other snickered. "Really? I heard it was just a bunch of chicks. The only guys here are our group."

Cregg knelt down, sliding his hands beneath her arms as she lay on the floor. They went underneath her shoulders, then around, tucking under Christy's armpits and gripping around the top of her chest. With a clench of his body he lifted her up, off the floor, flexing, standing, pulling the brunette straight up and setting her haphazardly on her feet. That wasn't where his grip on her would end - it morphed, arms moving to force hers to bend back, back behind and above her head while he clasped his hands there at the back of her head, holding her in a full nelson.

Brody wasted no time. The large man put his dick away when he saw this, and with a smirk, and a set of brass knuckles set about either hand, he stepped in toward the pair, taking a swing at Christy's left cheek. Then a second, a low punch, right for her gut.

"Eeuch, chick, you smell like piss!" Cregg exclaimed. His face was in a snicker through it, and he let go of her arms, let go of her head, placing his hands on her back to shove her forward, away, toward the cruddy old sinks. The door was the other way. "That's just nasty. Take a fuckin' bath or somethin', clean yourself up!"

The other man laughed. "Just our luck. Some dumb bitch falls right in our lap and she has to be a smelly skank. Where's all the classy women nowadays?"


- - - -​


The funny thing about spending your time with locked doors, or boarded up windows...every single one gave your pursuers another second with which to pursue, and at a distance that benefited them more than it did you. Tamara had had enough time to duck into the gift shop, of course, but not enough time to do so without it being clear as day. And though this was far from the brainiest, tactical outfit of gentlemen, they knew enough that one ran around to the back of the gift shop while the other came at it from the front.

"... ... ...Heeere nigger nigger nigger nigger nigger..." The man twirled the knife around in his hand, body at a slight hunch, strafing as quietly as he could through the half-overturned aisles and racks and bins of assorted stuff - which wasn't very quiet at all, considering how much of it was on the floor at this point. "Why did you run?" Grinning, "How are we supposed to be friends like that?" He circled around to the counter. "Now you've gotten us off to a bad start-" He popped quickly around its back, only to see...more crap everywhere. No sign of her though.

He made it as far as the back door. To the handprint. "..." He pushed the long handle in, shoving the one-way door open. His community servant of an accomplice was there standing on the other side.

"Damn, 'bout time man. I couldn't get in from here."

"Hey, did she come out?"

"Eh? No, it ain't open once till now."

He started walking back in, his friend a couple steps behind. "Yeah but did you see anything? She wasn't running off or nothing was she?" The door swung in, clicking closed on its own.

"Nah man, there wasn't shit. And we were on her ass when we split up. If you were at the front then she's gotta still be in here."

"...She does, does she?" As they came from behind the counter, back to the general area of the gift shop. Still to his friend, but raising his voice, "THEN MAYBE WE SHOULD BURN THE PLACE DOWN...YOU KNOW, IF SHE'S GONNA HIDE SOMEWHERE. THERE'S PLENTY OF EXTINGUISHERS. ALL WE GOTTA DO IS BRING THEM WITH US, DON'T LET IT SPREAD TO OTHER BUILDINGS AND WE WIN."
 
Christy stumbled forward as she was shoved, landing hard against the sinks. She was still struggling to catch her breath after Brody's blow to her stomach, and heaving over the side she coughed up a blob of spit and blood. Her jaw screamed with agony where the brass knuckles had connected, and probing around with her tongue she found her tooth had been chipped and cheek gashed open. Christy had never been hit in her life, never even once. She'd taken some hard blows while playing soccer and even broken an arm of course, but this was completely different.

"Why the fuck did you do that?" she sobbed, glancing up into the broken filth encrusted mirror. They were still back there of course, interposed between her and the only door out of the bathrooms. Christy was certain if she could somehow get past them and outside, she could get away though. They couldn't outrun her, no way, anymore than she could outfight them.

The sink sputtered as she turned the handle and splashed some of the metallic-smelling water up into her face. She rinsed out her mouth, spitting several times into the sink, before raising up to study herself again in the mirror. A dark red bump was forming on her cheek, and Christy didn't even want look to see what was happening on her stomach. It still hurt every time she breathed in.

Dropping her eyes down, a piece of jagged glass at the edge of the broken mirror caught her eye. Reaching out quickly, she grabbed it, breaking it off, producing a little shiv of glass about four inches long. Christy then turned to face her two attackers again, not certain if they'd seen it, but determined to jam it in the eye of the first one who grabbed her, and then make a dash for the door and freedom.

****

Huddled up in the dark cupboard, her knees pressed against her heaving chest, Tamara could hear her pursuers moving around, calling out to her as they checked the shop. Nigger, nigger, nigger. The word sent a shiver down her spine. She’d been called it once before actually, by some drunk redneck asshole when she was out clubbing with her real friends, but never in a context like this one. It served to heighten her already overpowering sense of fear. These lunatics were going to hurt her if they caught her, clearly, maybe even kill her. Just what had they stumbled onto out here in this fucking hicksville?

Tamara continued to pray that they'd move on but seconds passed into minutes as they lingered. One of them bellowed something about starting a fire, and her heart paused for a beat. Would they do it? Would they try to burn her alive? She didn't know, but she did know she was not going to willingly crawl out of her hiding place and just give herself to them. Tamara wasn't that stupid.

Something skittered up her bare leg and she glanced down, the crack between the counter doors illuminating an enormous black spider nearly as large as her land crawling towards the hem of her skirt. Without thinking, Tamara slapped her hand at it, knocking it aside, her knuckles slapping against the doors in the same moment. The right one opened just slightly, then swung back with a series of crisp bangs.

Holding her breath, Tamara waited, ears straining in the suddenly deafening silence.

****

"Noooo, come on, she's fine. She probably wandered away to find the others. That's what you told her to do, isn't?"

Renee watched as Mel made a face, clearly on the fence, and she tugged her arm as further incentive to keep going. She hadn't come all the way here just to babysit her brainless little sister. There were still some sites around the park she wanted to see, places where the rumors she'd read online had placed the other accidental deaths as occurring, and it was starting to get late, the sun peaking down around the edges of the distant trees. Her pictures were going to look shit if they didn't hurry up.

But her friend shook her head. "No, she should be back by now. I want to check. You can go ahead though."

"I don't want to go ahead," Renee sighed, a bit melodramatically, again pulling at frees but more playfully this time, recognizing she'd already lost. When Mel finally made up her mind about something, she usually didn't budge. "...not by myself. What fun is that?"

"Well, the bathrooms aren't far. It won't take but a minute…"

And so, with a sigh, Renee followed, back towards where they'd last seen Christy disappear.
 
"...Yeah dude, why the fuck'd you do that?" Cregg repeated Christy's question, but with the blatant snicker on his face it didn't seem he was as truly concerned as she.

"I dunno. Guess I'm just an ass," with a laugh from the larger man.

Cregg just shook his head in amusement. The corners of his upper lip were raised showing a toothy smile. He looked back to Christy and eyed her up and down while she slurped up and spit out the water. Her ass was still exposed, pants and panties sloppily around her legs. "You're supposed to start off nice," he joked. "Ask for her hand, see if she'd like to dance. See if she's the kind to go down on the first date. Then you pop her a few times."

"What if I just really like hitting girls?"

"Can't that wait till after we rape her?"

"It can." Brody smirked. They both had another laugh. "We should also find out the fuck's goin' on too. Where does that get worked in?"

"After, man, after. ...We'll let the other guys find out what's up. I wanna get my rocks off before someone comes to get us and we get interrupted."

"That's a good point." Back to Christy now, though they'd been talking with her right there this entire time, Brody just smiled. Like a big, calm fucking monster. "So how 'bout it baby, up for a little double pen? ...You wanna be my girlfriend right now, or are we gonna do this some other way?"

- - - -​

All of a sudden there was the faint sound of a smack.

And then the sound of the counter door swinging open just a bit, and swinging closed, banging against itself.

Unmistakable.

Several seconds passed.

It was filled with nothing but silence, all of it. Huddled inside the bottom of the counter Tamara wouldn't hear anything, not whether the men were moving and signaling to one another or if they weren't doing anything at all. She wouldn't hear footsteps, if there were any, and there were no words being said. One probably had to make a note to remember to breathe.

Then the door swung wide open and a cold cone of billowing smoke immediately shot inside, filling the small cupboard area with freezing air from the nozzle of a fire extinguisher.
 
If Christy’s heart was hammering before it was soon set to smash through her ribcage as she was forced to listen while the two casually discussed raping her. She pressed the shard of glass tightly into her palm, not even aware it was drawing a thin line of blood as she turned around to face them. They both had smiles on their faces as they examined her in the low light, the big one looking eerily calm. It registered with her belatedly that they’d just said ‘other guys’, meaning there were more of them out there. Even now, her sister and her friends might be…

This can’t be happening! How can this be happening? I have to get out of here, and…

She took a cautious step forward and stumbled awkwardly, her pants having fallen to ankles while her panties gathered tightly around her calves. As much as Christy wanted to pull them up, she was afraid the two would take that as opportunity to grab her again. So instead she stepped out of her shorts and tugged nervously at her panties, trying to draw them back up her thighs as she slowly approached the pair.

“I…I…want to…” Christy stammered in a soft frightened voice that involved very little acting. Her dark brown eyes started up into their ugly amused faces, tears gathering at the edges of her lids. Then, her hand shaking terribly, she plunged the shard into the nearest man’s arm with all the force she could manage before throwing herself between them. Whether it pierced his flesh or caught on his jacket, the glass was torn from her hand and she struck the door hard with her right shoulder, scrambling for the metal handle, her fingers slick with her own blood.

“Help me!! HELP!!!”

****

Tamara waited in the foreboding silence, the spider all but forgotten now as it disappeared back into the dark. Please, don’t have heard, please, don’t have heard… she prayed silently, holding her breath, knees clutched against her chest. Her ears strained to hear even a single footstep, a hushed whisper, anything that give her an idea of their location. A crazy thought entered her head that she should crawl out now and bolt for the door, then just as quickly left it. They had to still be in the shop somewhere. She couldn’t outrun them.

“Acckhh!” she shrieked as the cupboard flung open and a sudden gust of freezing smoke caught her directly in the face. It temporarily blinded her and Tamara kicked and scrambled reflexively, knocking her head painfully against the ceiling before managing to push her way out the other door. She tumbled gracelessly onto the filthy tiles, the whitish frost still clinging to her arms and shirt as she held her hands up front of her face protectively. “Stop! Stop!”

Pushing herself backwards, she felt her shoulders pressing up against a corner, leaving her trapped as she gasped and sputtered. “Please,” Tamara practically screamed, remembering vividly what their friends had just done to Shanti, who might even now be bleeding to death at the front of park. And the knife. One had had a knife, glinting in his hands even as he gave chase. “D-don’t hurt me! You caught me…I’m done! Okay? I’m done, please!”
 
They stopped the back-and-forth joking when she spoke up, shambling toward them. The grins lingered on each man's face. They looked at her, watching as she tugged up her pissed-on panties, watching the shorts get left behind and the overall frightened look in her face. They caught everything except for the shard clutched in a hand hanging nonchalantly at her side.

"Aa-FUCK!!"

Brody's eyes whipped about as she dashed through them, first to Christy, then to Cregg as he stumbled to the side, then back to Christy, managing a touch of her brunette hair as it slipped through his outstretched fingers. He stepped after her quickly, reaching and missing again, then again when she went for the door, this time grabbing her by the wrist, grabbing her by the hair, and slamming his running body into her, sandwiching the girl between himself and the door. "What the fuck'd you do bitch," as he took a step back and slammed forward again, his large 6'5" frame and hefty gut giving her nowhere to go. When he stepped back again the hands that held her, gripping both the base of her hair and the wrist that was on the door handle, clenched on her hard, jerking her away from the door and the corner. He literally tossed her with his strength he jerked her so hard, whipping her back to the center of the bathroom, where he and his friend had been standing before.

The clatter of glass hitting the floor came next. "You dumb BITCH," seethed Cregg, right arm gripping his left bicep, right foot coming forward, punting the side of Christy's face with a steel-toed combat boot. He took a few steps back after that, back pressing to the tile wall, knees bent, shoulders and spine slumped forward. Teeth bared and lip curled to a snarl, blood clearly trickled all down the dark leather sleeve, through the lines of his fingers as he gripped his arm tight.

"Shit, she cut you man? Oh, it's fuckin' on." Brody took two steps forward, the first to close the distance. The second evolved into a kick, straight between her legs, right into a cunt punt.

- - - -​

Even as Tamara pushed herself to a corner with her feet, hands up, eyes closed, pleading to be let be, one of the two was already gripping her by the ankle. His other hand went to the bottom of her shoe and pulled, pulling her from the corner, pulling her across the musty old floor and out to the front of the counter. He shoved her leg aside, letting go, following up with a good, swift kick to her right hip and upper thigh. This was Michael, or Mike, a guy with short black hair, black gapped rings in his earlobes, snake bites on his lower lip and a flame tattoo that came up from both sides of his shoulders, visible halfway up his neck. "Damn right you're done, you little black bitch." He was that one, too.

"Heyy, heeyyy, whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa." The one with the knife, Tom, or to his friends, Tommy, put up both hands, palms open, thumb still holding the knife to the one. "Who says it's gotta be? Don't be so hasty to damage the merchandise my man."

"What? Are you seriously gonna-"

"Have you seriously checked out her body? C'mon, didn't you see those legs when she was running? That ass? Look at her rack right now," he exclaimed, gesturing with his free hand. He looked to Tamara now with a smile. "What d'ya say, baby? You take off your clothes, you let us get off our nuts, and we'll let you go free. All we want is a good time, okay? I promise." With the toothy smile he tossed her a wink.
 
The door cracked open as Christy fumbled at the handle with her slippery fingers, a tantalizing ray of light peeking through, briefly illuminating the bathroom’s filthy interior. Then just as quickly it slammed shut as Brody’s heavy bulk suddenly slammed into her small body, jarring her shoulder against the wood. “Whuf!” the air burst from her lungs as he repeated the action, flattening her against the door, his big stomach pressing warmly into her bare back. She might have fought and clawed and gone for his eyes in her desperation, but the slam effectively robbed the fight from her.

Christy was gasping for breath as his big hands latched around her wrist and hair, throwing her off her feet with a powerful heave of his arms. She hit the floor hard, pain shooting through her hip and down her right leg. There was no time to recover before a boot caught her in the left cheek, blood again exploding into her mouth, as she rolled onto her chest. Christy fought to rise up to her hands and knees, and began to scream loudly until a second blow landed directly between her legs.

It struck her mound so hard that it lifted her ass up from the ground and her screams turned into a painful high pitched whine as she fell back. Blood and spit dribbled from her lips as she lay sprawled before the two men, struggling just to draw herself up into a protective ball. “Stop, stop, stop, please, stop,” she pleaded, draping her thin arms over her heads, thighs clamped together as she drew her knees up to her chest in preparation for further blows.

****

Tamara felt a rough hand clasp around her ankle and she shrieked as she was pulled out from the counter, her top riding up her back as she was dragged over the dirty floors. The shots to her leg stung painfully, causing her to draw in a sharp hiss of air. She was the only one in their little group that had ever actually been in anything like a real fight, mostly with her older sisters, but also some other girls in her old school. All when she was younger though and never against a man twice her weight and size. Her instinct was to lash back at him, but she had no delusion she could fight her way free of them.

Her body was still tensing in preparation, adrenaline pumping, when the second one stepped in, holding his palms out in a placating gesture. Tamara’s heart felt like it was ready to burst as the two began to discuss what to do with her now that she’d been caught. Her dark brown eyes never left the knife as the one holding it pointed out her various…assets, to his friends.

Finally they flicked from Tommy’s face over to Mike then back to the knife and finally Tommy again as he flashed her a big smile. She didn’t believe his offer of course. Not really. They were going to let her go? Tamara wasn’t an idiot. It was a glimmer of hope though, and might at least prevent the other man, the tattooed racist with the swift hard kicks, from doing to her what had already likely been done to Shanti.

“O…O…O-o-kay,” she began in a trembling voice as her fingers nervously fumbled with the buttons of her red blouse. With the top few already unfastened it wasn’t long before it fell open, exposing her sizable breasts encased in their white cotton bra. “Just don’t… don’t fucking hurt me, alright? I’m not going to report you or anything, I swear… just please… we didn‘t know anyone was here… we‘ll leave… and…” And, slowly, reluctantly, Tamara began to peel away her other clothes under the men’s observant eyes.

****

“I heard a scream.”

“I didn’t hear anything, and even if you did, it’s probably just, like, a…”

“I heard a scream, Renee,” Mel repeated firmly. She knew what it had sounded like and who as well. She’d recognize her little sister’s voice anywhere. It had been muffled and distant and seemed to cut off abruptly, but it had been Christy without a doubt. They should have been back to the bathrooms by now but they’d looped around accidentally, the dimming sunlight making the Amusement Park look different than it had earlier, full of dark shadows that obscured the faded shop signs.

Mel set off at a brisk pace and then a sprint, certain for some reason that something was wrong here, and so ignoring her best friend’s protests as she headed in the direction where she’d thought it had come from. Renee had been trying to suggest they just use their phones instead, and she was in the process of sending out a few text messages, messages that would of course go answered, when Mel disappeared from sight, leaving both alone in the park.

“Gawd. Stupid. Never should have brought Christy in the first place,” she muttered, trying to call Tamara now and listening as the phone rang, while slowly wandering back towards the front entrance. At this rate she wasn’t even going to get the pictures she wanted before it was too dark. The whole detour a total waste, all because they had to baby sit. It was pretty much official. Mel had worst most boring friends possible.

Except for herself of course.
 
"Stop?! STOP?!" Cregg screamed, bending his knees, crouching right down in her face. "You stupid - look what you - you fucking stabbed me!"

"Don isn't gonna like it if we screw her up much more than this though man."

"More than this? How much more than this?!" Cregg put a foot on her shoulder, shoving her with it. "We don't wanna fuck her up too much, right?!" Another shove with his foot, his right hand holding tight around his left bicep. He stopped a moment. Then he snarled. Then he spit a mouthful of saliva down at Christy's face.

"...Right."

Cregg just paced around a bit.

"You still wanna get laid, by the way?"

No answer. Just frustrated grunts, grumbled, and a kick to a halfway stall door.

"Go grab some stuff and get cleaned up then man. I'll bring her in when I'm done."

Cregg kicked a different stall door in on his way out, still clutching his arm, walking past Brody. He didn't respond verbally, just left a bloody slick on the inside door handle when he opened it to step out, disappearing into the evening air.

Brody's attention left its glance over his shoulder and turned back to the girl, back to Christy. Smirking, "...So, you ever give a bloody blowjob before? ...Me neither. Get one, I mean. And heh, shit sounds kinda weird, but ya gotta admit, right, it sounds different." He came to step over her, looking at her casually as she lay curled up on the floor. "You wanted it to stop right? This is how it stops. Get up on your knees already dumbass."

- - - -​

"...Seeee? We're gonna have a good time." Tommy's hands lowered. The knife was still at his side. He watched her undo and open her blouse, he watched Tamara expose her generous bra-covered breasts, the white cotton mounds being thrust this way and that as her upper body worked out of her top. "She gives up a few holes, we let her go...a little kissing on the mouth, and who's to say we can't all be Facebook friends?" He winked to the girl, grinning from ear to ear.

That's when the phone rang.

"Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa," Mike quickly shot forward, eyes on the girl. He leaned over to snatch the knife from Tom's hand as he passed his friend by, then came right to Tamara, arm, blade extended. "You don't touch that." A step closer. It was an inch from her throat now. "You don't fuckin' touch it." Until it stopped ringing. He stared into her eyes. The knife was slid into his back pocket. "You wanna do a monkey," he said, looking Tamara in the eyes, speaking to Tommy, "that's on you man." His hand reached into her pockets, going through three of them until he found her phone, his touch smoothing the front and back of her legs as a result with only her thin pants between them. "These tats I got - they say I'm not into that shit." And right in front of her he opened her phone, hyperextending it, snapping it into halves. The device was tossed to the side, joining the rest of the junk littered about the floor.

Mike went to stand over to the side, crossing his arms.

"...Okay," Tom just said, raising his brows briefly, then simply looking to Tamara. His expression softened again, though remained sly, remained slick. "Just you 'n me then I guess." Unlike the others he had a more regular appearance; short, unkempt black hair kept under a ballcap, face looking like he was Italian mixed with something else, clean shaven as of a few days ago, typical t-shirt, jeans and sneakers. A few arm tattoos were all that could really peg him as a delinquent - one, if one was observant, matching the same symbol others had tattooed on their arms and on the backs of their jackets. "So how 'bout a little shake with that? ...C'mon, you're not too nervous for a little striptease, are you? Let's have some fun!"

- - - -​

Shanti's personal introduction to Hell had seen her be knocked unconscious practically instantly, so the brief, but unforgiving beating she'd received would probably have to be remembered in bits, coming back to her in the order of whichever way she moved first. Following that the trio had literally taken the Indian girl by her long black hair and dragged her caveman-style across the park, a good couple hundred feet back to the building where they all generally hung out.

Once there the unconscious girl had been brought to a back room where she was stripped completely nude, panties, bra, everything, even a fucking hairband if she'd been wearing one, where two of the three men had lifted her up, one at each side, and the third tied her arms up above her head with a cloth, tying her wrists around some exposed plumbing pipe. She was let to dangle maybe six inches and change from the floor. The one that had tied her, standing on a stool, got off long enough to grab a nearby beer bottle. It was mostly full, but more likely with piss and cigarette butts than actual old beer - not like they were gonna waste that. With a mutual snicker between the men he poured it over the naked teenager's head, uptipping the bottle until it all was out.

"Wakey wakey." He stepped down off the stool, then kicked it aside.
 
Tommy’s oily grin and easygoing manner weren’t doing much to put Tamara at ease. She had a good idea just what nastiness was lurking behind them. His friend scared her even more though. That fear quickly turned into overwhelming terror when her phone suddenly rang, disrupting the moment and freezing her in place, and Mike leapt forward to thrust the knife against her throat. It was close enough that she could feel the tip dimpling her skin, threatening to pierce it with just the lightest increase in pressure. She could see the hate dancing in his eyes just above the ugly tats. It was something she’d never seen before yet knew on sight.

He would kill her if given the chance and he would enjoy doing it, she thought. The coldness in his voice as he called her a monkey said all that needed saying. Tamara did not move an inch as he patted down her skirt and fished out the phone, snapping it two and tossing the broke pieces aside. If only she’d remembered in her panic that she’d still had it on her instead of in her handbag…

When Tommy stepped over again, her frightened brown eyes locked unto his almost normal face, now seizing eagerly onto the hint of compassion that seemed to show through. At least he didn’t appear to be a racist psycho like his partner. Maybe he’d be able to keep the other one from taking that knife to her if she went along with what he said. She had to hope. Resisting wasn’t an option anymore, not now that she’d see the murderous hate in the other man’s face.

Nodding slowly she reached around to remove her bra. Even though she was probably more capable of it than the other girls, there wasn’t much of a striptease involved, not with how scared she felt, but Tamara made some small effort to do as he asked. As the cotton fell away, she shook her chest a little, causing her full heavy breasts to jiggle for him. She then fumbled with the belt of her skirt before sliding it down her rounded thighs along with her panties, wiggling her hips faintly, her eyes never leaving his own. “You…you’re not really going to let me go…” she whispered. “Are you?”

****

Nothing. No answer.

But then that was less than surprising. Tamara was a Class A bitch, they all knew that, and she’d only come along with them on this trip to use them for the ride. That was obvious too, at least to Renee. She didn’t know why her friend Mel had felt compelled to invite her along just because she was her stupid roommate. What did she did know is that the disdain between them was mutual. So of course she ignored her call. Of course.

Renee tried her own roommate next as she reemerged at the park’s front entrance. Surprisingly there was no one around, meaning the pair of them must have wandered off elsewhere. The phone rang and she heard a buzz and a noisl clatter, like plastic flopping around on a hard surface. It took a minute to track it down, and kneeling down, she fished Shanti’s vibrating phone out from under the ramp leading to the carousal.

Weird. She’d dropped it obviously. Renee to the rescue again. She felt like she was always looking out for that clueless girl, like a lost kitten that had shown up on her doorstep one day, or dorm room as was the case. Walking over to the gate, Renee peered out at the car but even in evening twilight, she could spot no sign of any bodies sitting inside of it.

“Where did everybody go…?”

****

Shanti woke up with her head throbbing and hair and eyelashes dripping piss. The pungent smell filled her nostrils as she blinked hazily, struggling with her bindings for a brief moment before realizing she was dangling above the floor. She was the smallest of the girls at just slightly over five foot with a thicker built, not fat but not as leanly athletic as Christy and Tamara or model thin like Renee and Mel, and possessed large breasts, full lips, and expressive doe-like eyes. Her feet kicked wildly, fighting for a purchase she couldn’t find, before she finally looked out at the men watching with amusement.

“Who…who are you?” her fear and uncertainty carrying clearly through her small quiet voice. “What’s going on?”

****

With every shove off Clegg’s thick soled boot, Christy had rocked forward, pulling her arms and legs a little tighter to her battered body. The uncorked rage that tore through the man’s ragged voice left her sobbing. She’d never heard anyone quite so angry, quite so willing to do her serious harm. She was certain at first they were going to keep kicking her until she died or passed out there on the bathroom in a pile of damp old toilet paper and her own blood.

The other warned him off though and she heard the door bang loudly as he stormed out. A moment later the second man’s shadow was looming over her balled up form. This was the one who’d kicked her so viciously a minute ago and struck with the brass knuckles. Her head still rang from that blow and the pain between her legs was so great that Christy wasn’t even certain she could stand. She did manage to pull herself up to her knees though.

Staring up at the big man with his smirking face, she spit another glob of blood unto the floor and then wiped her face with the back of her shaky hand. “O…O…okay,” she said, her eyes flicking down towards the man’s crotch, while was now directly across from her face. Blowjob, he’s said. The only blowjobs she’d ever given had been to her boyfriend Mark on the track team, playful and half-drunk at the time. This wasn’t going to be anything like that, she knew.

Not remotely.
 
"See- See, there we go! There we go now!" Tommy grinned. "See now, that's not so bad, is it?" He watched as she took her bra off, giving her full, heavy, chocolate breasts a nice little back-and-forth sway as she shimmied her shoulders and ribs. "See? ...A bit more lukewarm than hot, okay, but there's no reason we can't have a good time." He grinned even more as her belted skirt and panties were pushed over her curved hips and rear, and then sashayed down, letting there be no question his eyes were on each of Tamara's private areas as she displayed them for him. "You need some work on the dancing, but it's not like we've got music right now, so you're doin' alright...just keep moving baby."

Mike was off in background a bit, sneering, rolling his eyes, folding his arms, adopting an entire 'whatever' attitude about the moment. "Just make it quick. I wanna find one for me," he called out.

But before Tom could respond, that's when Tamara asked her question. ...He just grinned, that expression on his face harboring a renewed vibrance. "No." His head lilted to a side, to the side and back slightly. "It's not up to me sweetheart. The boss is gonna decide what to do with you. I can put a good word in. But let's not think about that right now - let's just try and have a good time together, alright? A nice time." He took off his hat, placing the cap on the now naked girl's head instead. "You 'n me...and we'll even get Mikey here in on it. He'll soften up, you'll see. And we'll not worry about the future for a minute. Come grind your ass, or wrap your leg around me and kiss me on the mouth - whatever, just something sexy, you know?"

- - - -​

The bald-headed, bearded man standing in front of Shanti took the emptied out beer bottle in his hand, held it aloft so he could look straight down its length and into her eyes, letting the now nude girl acknowledge them both, and when she did he lowered it in front of him. A quick upward flick and release of his wrist saw the bottle spin briefly in the air between the two before crashing down on the hard concrete floor, sending bits of itself everywhere. Bending, he retrieved the largest of the pieces, holding it by its still intact neck. "This," he said in response, free palm on his knee, pushing himself up to a full stand, "is your own blood." He brought a sharp edge of the glass to Shanti's left shoulder, cutting about a two inch length horizontally around where her chest met her arm. "And this is what's going on."

The bottle shifted from one hand to the other. A now-free finger rose up to gather the initial droplets of blood, holding this between them too, looking to the Indian girl with raised eyebrows as she dangled there. "Got your attention there honey darlin'? ...You tell me how many of you there are, and why, and if I don't so totally believe what you have to say then I cut again. If I do believe, Mr.Glass goes bye-bye. Okay?"

- - - -​

"Damn, don't spit it all out," Brody commented as Christy doubled over, palms on the nasty tile floor. "I said a bloody blowjob - new experiences an' all that." Whether he was serious or just taking a verbal jab at the coughing teen's expense was up for grabs.

He laughed though. The tall, heavyset man reached a hand to the side of Christy's probably throbbing head as she sat up on her knees in front of him. Fingers touched against the hair at her temple. The cold steel of the brass knuckles would be felt on the skin between her temple and left eye. "Go ahead baby, pull it out. Start sucking. ...And if you do any dumb shit, you better be prepared for what happens next."
 
Tamara looked more than a little ridiculous with her discarded clothes piled haphazardly around her legs, bare ass seated on the grimy shop floor, wearing only Tommy’s faded baseball cap, pulled down over her forehead at a slight angle. Her fearful brown eyes remained locked onto the man’s grinning face as if he was the only thing in her rapidly shrinking world at that moment. He was honest with her at least although it wasn’t the answer she wanted. When he joked about bringing Mikey in on things, she shook her head vigorously, a quick little ‘no, no, no’. Tamara was frightened of them both but of that one especially. In the normal world she might have responded to his nasty racism with a few shouted insults of her own: white trash, redneck, micro-cocked hick asshole. Here it was different though. Here he had held a knife so close to her throat that she could feel the metal tip pricking into her soft skin. Here was she more scared than she’d ever been in her life.

Biting her plump lower lip, Tamara rose up cautiously on her knees and tried to think sexy, although there was nothing remotely sexy about her situation. Her hands slid up her flat belly and cupped her large breasts, squeezing them lightly, thumbs rubbing against her dark nipples. She kept staring at him the entire time, trying to judge his reaction, afraid that anger might suddenly break through the thin veil of kindness at any moment. Leaning forward with a stomach that roiled as if full of slithering snakes, she tilted her head and pressed her lips against his own, the rough stubble scraping against her soft cheeks. Hands slipping down to lightly grip his waist, she let her bare breasts press into him, soft and warm as they flattened against his chest.

****

Shanti cringed when the bottle shattered against the floor but still did not understand the bearded man’s intentions. Not until he was pressing the jagged edge directly into her the smooth flesh of her shoulder, causing her to shriek frantically as it drew a line of blood. Her legs began to scissor in the air, her small feet pedaling and kicking against the man’s thighs, seemingly to little notice or effect. It was more the shock of the moment that caused this reaction than the actual pain, although there was some of that as well. The thrashing did little but wrench her arms in their crude bindings and finally she stopped, breasts thrusting outwards as her chest heaved violently, struggling to catch her breath again.

“I… I… I don’t know,” Shanti finally stammered as the man dragged his finger through the wound, showing her the tip now slick with her own blood. She knew that wasn’t the answer he wanted but nothing else would seem to come right now. In her sudden panic and with a head still throbbing distractingly from the blow she’d taken, she couldn’t seem to get her brain to cooperate. “I don’t remember…I mean, wait, wait,” she screamed, eyes darting to the bottle neck glinting in his hands, “No, please don’t! There… there, are… we’re on vacation and, and, we…we didn’t mean to come here! We’ll go, we’re sorry… Please!”

****

Christy felt almost dizzy from the pain. Both her head and crotch throbbed in a way she’d never felt before, not just with an ache but a persistent gouging pain that shot up her nerves. She’d taken some hard hits as an athlete but no one had ever intentionally hurt her this badly. As Brody reached to touch her sore face, she shrunk back, but that was all. The fight had gone out of her with that last flurry of brutal kicks.

Swallowing hard and staring straight forward, she reached up with shaky hands to unzip the front of his jeans. Slender fingers found their way into his underwear, extracting his thick partially erect length until it was hanging just inches from her face. She could smell his odor immediately, pungent and musky, it likely being some time since any of these men had properly bathed. Tears welled up in her eyes as Christy leaned forward, still tasting the coppery tinge of blood in her mouth as she took him between her lips. There was no effort at any kind of foreplay, no licking or fondling, she simply began to suck him, running her wet tongue along his underside and being careful not graze him with her teeth. The thought of biting down had entered her mind but just as quickly dropped away as she felt the cool hard steel of his knuckles caressing her cheek.

Soon the only sounds audible in the dimly lit bathroom were the lewd wet noises of her mouth plying his fat cock and the quiet muffled whimpers of Christy’s own crying.
 
"Now this is more like it," Tommy grinned, eyes glued on those generous chocolate breasts and their dark nipples as she pushed and played at them. He was certainly growing aroused, from a half-erect status when she'd taken off her clothes, his shaft growing in firmless and rediscovering its proper form, to now pushing noticeably against the crotch of his pants, giving the fabric an inarguable shape. He felt like he wanted to say something, something playful, or complimenting, or joking, or encouraging, she was certainly getting the right idea he felt as she stood up and leaned forward, letting her bountiful breasts droop free, touching them again, touching her stomach...but she kissed him, and instead that's where he suddenly was.

Tommy's return was more passionate, more energetic than the one she gave him, tilting his head to get under the ballcap, leaning in. Breathing out through his nose, he elongated the moment, the first audible smack of lips parting leading right to a second kiss without any space having formed between the pair. By the third he had his left hand around her right side, beneath her arm, palm on the smooth skin of her back, and his right had encircled her lower, palm gripping so wholly around Tamara's left buttcheek that his fingers curved inward, between her crack.

- - - -​

"We don't have time for this, boss," one of the men interjected, standing off to the side.

"Yeah, I know," he shot back sharply. Bald and beardly, Don was the leader of the group, moderately muscled on his arms and legs and with a chest that was somewhere between stout and fat. He brought a palm up to cover his mouth while looking to Shanti, wiggling, dangling there, stammering words as quickly as she could. Some of it was in answer to him, but not much of it was what he really wanted to know. She'd probably give up her third grade teacher's middle name right now if he asked.

The bottle was brought to the soft expanse of her stomach, below her ribs, above her belly button. There she was quickly sliced again, the bottle whipping across her mocha skin in a left-to-right downward diagonal motion. This one wasn't terribly long, but longer than the other, about three, three and a half inches total. It was only skin deep, but that was all she probably needed. "Great. You're on vacation. So you're not here to fuck with us, you're just stupid - but I still want to know how many of you there are." His face was firm. Eyes narrow, jaw set, he stared directly to the vulnerable woman, "Number. Names. What they look like. Tell me fast or I swear to God I'll trade this bottle in for something worse."

- - - -​

The last time he'd taken a good, proper bath...that was probably a pop quiz that Brody would fail. And he'd do it with a snicker and a bit of a laugh, because the way he and the other guys lived, who really cared. It wasn't like he was going to sleep with himself. That was this dumb bitch's job.

He stood there while she undid his pants and fished out his cock, semi-erect, growing the rest of the way into its full form while wrapped in the warm, bloody cocoon that was the sporty brunette's mouth. His was an only average length dick, but much thicker than most, and with a curly base of dark unkempt hairs that was just as unmaintenanced as the rest of him.

A few seconds of quiet and lewd, wet sucking sounds were both relaxing and awkward and simultaneously erotic. Brody's shaft grew to its full size, its proper length and girth inside Christy's bobbing mouth, with an uptilt of his chin and occasional light grunts in his breathing further evidencing his pleasure. Her cries went wholly ignored, his other hand coming to take the other side of her head now, its cold steel of his familiar weapon touching to her skin too, wordlessly urging her into a steady groove.
 
Tamara’s already rapid breath rate only increased as Tommy leaned in, bringing their bodies even closer together as he returned her halfhearted kiss. Where hers had been tepid at best, his reaction was far stronger, pressing down insistently and parting her plump red-tinted lips with his own. The arid dusty little gift shop suddenly filled with the slick wet sounds of their mouths entwining, and if during the moment the tears that have been gathering in her dark lashes finally spilled over, trailing down her smooth brown cheeks, it was unlikely to be noticed by her enthusiastic partner.

As she felt herself being lowered down towards the floor, the man’s hand sliding around her waist to settle between her shoulder blades, Tamara reached up to grab at the baseball cap. She held in it limply in her hand for a brief moment, before finally letting it drop to the floor with her other discarded clothes. A little whimper sounded in the back of her throat as his other hand took a tight grip on her generously rounded behind, squeezing just enough that she felt it. That wasn’t all she felt either. Rubbing warmly against her thigh Tommy’s erection now tented the front of his pants, and she could practically make out the shape and outline of its hard length even through the soiled denim.

She knew that any moment he would be reaching down, drawing it out, angling the smooth shaft towards the ‘V’ of her bare crotch. Tamara tried to prepare herself for that moment, knowing instinctively that this man’s reactions might determine what happened to her next as she wrapped her own slender arms around his chest, pink-painted fingernails digging into fabric of his coat as pressed her hands hard against his back.

****

Shanti shook her head rapidly as Don brandished the bottle again, her blood already dripping from the jagged tip and down the greenish glass. Her long silky dark hair trailed over her shoulders, several tendrils of it sticking to the previous wound. “N-n-no…please, please, please!” she screamed frantically, her voice rising in pitch as a wound opened up just below her dangling breasts. The cut welled up and two little crimson tendrils began to work their way down the soft mound of her heaving stomach, framing her belly button.

The young college student was visibly shaking as her small frame hung suspended in the air. A timid girl even in normal times, the fear had now swallowed Shanti whole, leaving her crying uncontrollably, barely able to speak between the choking hiccupping sobs that had overtaken her voice. Her attention was nonetheless hyper focused on Don, her big doe-like brown eyes shifting from his face to the bottle and back again in obvious terror. “I…I-I-I-…” the words at first came so fast and trembling they sounded more like a dog’s panting than a human voice. “…R-r-renee…and Mel and her s-s-sister…and and…the black g-g-girl…” Even though she‘d just been speaking with her moments before the men had appeared, Tamara was the least familiar of the girls to Shanti and her name now somply refused to come. “That’s all! I swear to God, I swear… Please don’t cut me!”

****

The ripe musky smell of her attacker wafted up into her nostrils even as Christy fought not to choke on the salty sweaty taste of Brody’s length. As it grew inside of her mouth, becoming thicker, her lips had to stretch to accommodate it. The inside of her cheek was still bleeding from the gash, and soon it began to leak around the edges as she bobbed up and down on him miserably, coarse grimy hairs tickling the end of her upturned nose. A slimy mixture of saliva, blood, and precum slowly gathered in a slick sheen on her lower lip before finally spilling onto her chin and spotting her shirt.

She continued to cry as the blowjob quickened in pace, the tears flowing steadily down her bruised face while Brody took control of her aching head, his protruding gut pushing back warmly against her forehead. Every fresh touch of the steel brought a noticeable flinch, her shoulders hunched up around her slim neck, the fear she now held the big man in very plain to see. Some of her dark brown hair had come loose from its ponytail during their previous struggling, several strands of which now fell over her face and sprouted around her small ears. Eventually her moist pink tongue started to press against the bottom of his thick girth, increasingly eager to end things now, before he decided turn more forceful or violent again.

Maybe he would even let her go when it was over...maybe...please...
 
Mike couldn't be less interested, even making the occasional bored sound or an annoying 'really' as Tom and Tamara made out. But, you know what? Fuck Mike.

The hot sound of their saliva-slick lips smacking each others in the dusty, arid building only served to further Tommy's want. She'd be able to feel it, his crotch growing more and more, coming to its full shape in his pants shortly after he made that 'V' press up against it, largely due to the hand gripping into her ass as if it were already his. "You like that baby," he breathed, parting the kiss to breathe against the side of her mouth and against her cheek.

A few more kisses, first at the side of Tamara's lips, then at her cheek. Then on her chin. Then on the side of her neck, at its height. His one hand was all over her back, coursing up and down, smoothing her beautiful chocolate skin from her lower back to her shoulder blades with his palm. The other kept firm hold wrapped around the one buttcheek, which in turn urged her lower half to stay pressed with his.

"Tell me you want this," in a hot, hushed tone. "...Mmn, tell me it's not rape. Tell me you want to fuck me, baby." His hands moved. They both released their touch, going up to the tops of Tamara's arms, to the outsides of her shoulders. Tommy's head lifted some then, to Tamara's ear, no longer languidly floating about her chin and neck. There was a sudden purpose to it, and to his voice. "Ask me all nice, and I may even let you choose which hole we do it in."

His hands started turning her, pushing on one shoulder, guiding the other, guiding the quietly crying naked woman to face away from him, her back to him now, her chest toward the wall. "Pussy or ass though. I want some real penetration right now." He grinned. Both hands softened their grips at her shoulders, moving to their tops. Then moving to her upper back, gliding up and down from her shoulder blades to the center of her back. "Lean forward. Hands on the wall."

- - - -​

"So that's four," with an impatient snarl. Don looked over his shoulder to the other two guys, the other two of the group that had helped jump the Indian girl and bring her back here. "Five total. We've got one. Tom and Mike went after the black one, and Brody and Cregg went in the stalls after some brunette. Round those other two up before shit gets outta hand." Looking back to Shanti, "It's gonna get fuckin' dark soon."

They stood, one having been leaning back against the wall, arms crossed, the other having had set into a crouch. Both of the men left the head of their group there with the dangling, naked brown-skinned one, disappearing through a doorway to head out into the park.

Don looked away from her, flicking his wrist, releasing the glass bottle from his hand. Its broken half arced up in the air for a second, spinning slightly, then crashed down, breaking into several smaller pieces. "Tch. ... ...and now we wait."

"...The fuck is this?" A voice came from the side. Turning, Don saw Cregg, the smaller man leaning slightly forward and clutching at a bloody arm.

"The hell happened to you?"

"One of her cunt friends," looking right at Shanti, giving the girl a mixture of a glare and an acknowledging nod. "Some stupid brunette. Brody's raping the shit out of her now though."

"...I would really rather you guys gather them up first, then do that shit after."

"Yeah. Alright, well, I'll make that note." He gave the boss a clearly faked smile. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna get this shit cleaned up."

- - - -​

If anything, the crying just made it hotter. So did the blood. Brody, clearly not your run of the mill gentleman, kept encouraging Christy's head in a fast, steady bob, loving the feel of her warm mouth around his thick girth, and moaning openly at the feel of her pink muscle on the underside of his shaft. What made it even hotter was the angle, the view, seeing her brown hair bob haphazardly with her head, partly still in its ponytail, partly about her face and shoulders. One hand left the side of her head to pull that hair tie off, whipping it aside, letting Christy's hair fall free now.

"That's right baby...that's right...show me how good you can do it..." His voice was light, yet rugged, cooing her forth. The one hand returned to her head, to hold her at the side, but now that she was obediently getting into it he allowed her a little freedom with her pacing - a little. If she slowed up she'd be corrected.

"Think you can get my balls in your mouth, baby? Both of 'em?"
 
The shallow little pants of Tamara’s breathing could be heard wafting from her mouth as Tommy broke their kiss. It was more from her fear than any kind of arousal, although sounded much the same, her heart feeling as if it might burst any moment as it pounded frantically in her chest. Her rapist’s own breathe gusted hotly over her cheek, drying the web of tears that had traced their way down it. With his hand clenching tightly around her ass, he’d pulled her forward, trapping her there against his hard frame, where she could now feel his rigid length rubbing eagerly against her mound through the worn denim.

The kisses trailed a path down her long neck while a rough masculine hand caressed the bow of her back gently, as if they were actual lovers, enjoying each other’s touch. Whether she might have even enjoyed it in another setting or not, Tamara wasn’t sure, her mind unable to think that way right now. Her thoughts were too overpowered with raw fear, afraid he was going to decide to hurt her after all if she somehow upset him, afraid the other one might come back with the knife, afraid what was going to happen when this was all over. Her own hands clung tightly to Tommy’s shoulders, digging down while she wept quietly, wondering about her friends and if anyone had gotten away or called the police or…

She blinked suddenly at his request, her long dark lashes damp with tears as he told her she had to ask for it. Despite the soft whisper of his voice it was a threat as much as anything. Her crying grew a little louder as Tamara nodded her head slowly, her left cheek rubbing against his own, indicating that she understood. She let him reposition her body then, directing her around until she was facing the stained walls, palms flat against the surface and her large shapely ass thrust out towards his crotch. His hands pressed down firmly on her back and Tamara choked as she opened her mouth, a sob bursting forth before she finally managed to control herself. “I…I want you to f-f-fuck me…” Her words came in a thick whisper as she closed eyes tightly, trying to sound convincing enough to please him. Especially with the second part for Tamara knew she definitely did not want him to make the other choice. “…to fuck me in my pussy, please… the pussy, that’s…that’s what I want…”

****

Christy kept the pace Brody had dictated, bobbing up and down on his thick length as the blood and saliva dripped from her chin. With the tie gone, her rich brown hair now hung in a messy disarranged strands across her back, framing her face and ticking the man’s big hands as they clasped firmly around side of her head. Her crying had quieted into a kind of pitiful hiccoughing noise in the back of her throat, ones mostly muffled by the steady Glk-Gluk-Glk of her lips around his cock.

At his request she slowly pulled back and looked up at him with her large brown eyes, blurry and wet from her tears. Christy had never even heard of such a thing, or at least was not aware that men liked it. The thought of taking his sweaty testicles into her mouth with their matted black hairs made her stomach flop queasily. The thought of being struck with those brass knuckles or kicked between her legs again had a more powerful effect though, sending jolts of terror up her trembling back and through her breast.

“Y-y-yeah,” she said dumbly, too afraid to risk not answering him. Tilting her head to the left, Christy slowly leaned down and pressed her tongue against his balls, at once tasting his foulness. She swallowed hard and wrapped her warm mouth around the first and then used her tongue to pull in the second, letting them rest there between her stretched lips as fresh tears rolled down her face, his coarse hairs rubbing against her chin and lips. “…nnnmmm…”

****

Feeling hot and tired and above all tired, Melanie leaned her back against the wall of the ticket stall and glanced up at the burnt orange sky for the dozenth time. It was getting very late. It would be dark soon. She knew without even thinking about it that she didn’t want to still be here when the sun finally went down. She didn’t want to be here at all in fact, after what she’d just seen. She never should have let Renee talk her into it.

“Yes, I’m serious. I don’t know! I didn’t get a good look. He was average, I guess, kind of rough looking, with lots of tattoos on his face… No, he wasn’t hot, quit fucking joking around Renee, this is serious!” Mel was used to her friend’s sense of humor but this wasn’t the time for it. The sense that something was wrong here was starting to grew more intense with every passing second. Christy still hadn’t showed up and now Renee was telling her that Shanti and Tamara were missing as well.

“Maybe, probably, I guess.” Her friend suggested he must be some kind of homeless squatter, probably trying to duck out of sight when he’d heard them moving around. It was true the man didn’t seem in very good shape, hunched over the way he’d been, and had looked to be in a hurry too. That there was anyone here at all however was sending off alarm bells in her head. The place was supposed to be deserted. “Anyways, I’m almost at the bathrooms. If Christy isn’t there…” Mel realized with a sick dread she really didn’t know what she’d do next then. Just like Renee had reported with Tamara, her sister hadn’t answered her phone either, although knew Christy often kept it switched off.

“See if you can find the others. Don’t go wandering though. I don’t want to lose you as well. I don’t know…try yelling out their names or something. They shouldn’t have gone too far, unless…” Unless what? Unless something was seriously fucking wrong. “No, stay on the phone. Because! Yes, I’m scared, you would be too if you were such an idiot. Oh, ha ha, funny…”

Pulling the phone away from her ear and cupping her free hand over her mouth, Melanie decided to take her own advice. “Christy…? Christy! Can you hear me! Please don’t fuck around! Where are you? Christy!!”
 
"That's a good girl," Tommy cooed. His grin was devilish, hands going to Tamara's naked waist as she thrust out her smooth chocolate rump, guiding her into his firm, aroused crotch. "That's a good, good girl...that's how you do it baby, that's what I want." They helped adjust her back and forth a few times, getting her so his stiff erection was nestled right into her crack, shielded only by its layers of fabric. "It's not that scary, right? We're gonna have a good time..."

His palms went up to cup her dangling, generous breasts, engulfing both, gripping them eagerly. Tom's upper body descended against her back as he leaned forward, chest forming to her back's arch, hungry mouth finding her left shoulder, then the left side of her neck. His hasty, exhaling breaths were clearly audible as he sloppily kissed all about. Because rape would have been one thing; he was treating her like a lover, probably making it even worse. That was an entirely higher level of fucking fucked up fun.

"Tell me more," in a quick, exhaled breath. "Keep talking baby. Tell me more, tell me what you want." His body stayed bent over, molded to her, but his hands released her tits, letting them bob free. They went to his pants, unbuttoning them, undoing their zippered front and quickly as he could he pulled his shaft out, erect in his palm, jeans and boxers still mostly on. A second shuffle saw his balls come free of the underwear. He guided the tip down, between her cheeks, feeling the softness of her lips with the hood of his engorged cock.

Next came his shirt. Unlike his pants, this Tom gripped at the front with both hands, breaking his upper body's mold to her back just enough to arch up and tug it overhead, discarding the t-shirt to the floor. He was immediately pressed up against her right after, warm skin now upon warm skin. And what Tamara wouldn't see, with her current vantage point, would soon enough become a point of interest - Mikey wasn't going to be this girl's only problem, not if the thick black swastika tattooed over Tom's left breast, over his heart, had anything to say about it.

- - - -​

That steady, audible glk-gluk-glk of her bobbing head was as fucking hot as the wet warm massage of her mouth itself. Brody had no qualm about helping the brunette's head up and down as she blew him, surely giving her salty preemptive tastes of what was to come along the way. With her hair freed and splayed down her shoulders and back it was a whole new visual sensation now, something to watch as she went forward and back, as he could feel the young girl's saliva and blood mixture trickle from the base of his dick to onto his unwashed, leathery balls.

When she took his sack into her mouth, starting with her tongue, engulfing the first and then popping in the second, he let out a long, guttural groan, "Nnnnnyyeaah, that's what I'm talkin' 'bout, baby." Brody's head tilted back. His chin aimed upward at the bathroom ceiling and his eyes easily shut. "Mmmnn," his left hand dropping to his side, his right shifting to the back of Christy's head, into a petting motion from the top along her loose hair rather than holding her head at the sides. She was let free now to move entirely on her own.

"Stroke me baby," he breathed out. "Jerk me with your hand. Keep sucking those nuts."

That's when a voice was heard, sounding right outside the stalls. A feminine voice, calling to Christy by name - the big man quickly assumed it was to her anyway, not knowing her name, not that it fully mattered. "...Answer that," he whispered sharply, "I'll break your neck and let whoever that is finish me off...you just keep doin' as you're doin'."

- - - -​

'Christy...? Christy! Can you hear me! Please don't fuck around! Where are you? Christy!!'


Funny. Two seconds earlier they'd literally asked each other where the hell they were gonna find these last two chicks, that the others hadn't looked yet.

And here was one.

"That's the blonde," Jake pointed out, the mohawked one that had been the first to spot the five as they piled into the 'abandoned' park. In hindsight, of course that was the blonde. His friend wasn't blind. "Where the hell's the other?"

"Dunno," came Evan. He was the newest of the group and a bit on the shorter side at 5'6", with kind of shaggy mid-length brown hair. They were about fifty feet out, the pair, coming from the old restaurant where Shanti had been taken. Melanie's booming voice had been a beacon that took them around a bend and now staring at her, roughly fifty feet away. "She's turned to the side...think she'll see us? Should we wait?"

"Nah. Let's just fuckin' go."

They were off. Quickly they dashed, but when Jake bent, walking in a crouch, for whatever reason as they were out in the open, Evan did too, following suit. It wasn't as fast, but it was quieter, gravel though still sounding a bit beneath their boots.
 
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