Static Shock Fan Fiction ❯ Banditos ❯ Possession ( Chapter 8 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Manga-Chick 
“Don’t know. They all crazed, alla sudden,” Junior muttered, looking at the three.
Non Anime: Static Shock Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Supernatural / Horror / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 04.10.2006 | Pages: 5 | Words: 6.9K | Visits: 345 | Status: Completed
“Don’t know. They all crazed, alla sudden,” Junior muttered, looking at the three.
Non Anime: Static Shock Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Supernatural / Horror / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 04.10.2006 | Pages: 5 | Words: 6.9K | Visits: 345 | Status: Completed
Extreme AU, OOC, non-historic West, violence...supernatural themes, violence...Just be prepared for the amount of violence and utter chaos.
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN STATIC AND OTHER ASSOCIATED CHARACTERS!
Based somewhat on that thrilling vid-game, Darkwatch. Heh. My inspiration for something gory and dark.
A/N: I apologize for the long wait...but I was very melancholy with personal issues...sorry if this chapt don’t sound like the others and was rushed, but it’s very hard for me to write, nowadays.
Chapter Eight:
Possession
Alva’s horse paced with agitation, the older man looking around himself with a sort of calculating air. Behind him, his son and his friends glanced about with similar expressions. One of the women was crying, her sniffles audible, carrying along the breeze that sent dust about.
“Shut her up,” Alva snapped in a low hiss, glancing over his shoulder.
The town they’d arrived was silent; still–abandoned in a haste. Settled deep within a valley void of wide open spaces, the Alvas and their money-makers had no clue where to go. The group of thirteen–five whores and seven men–were tired, hungry and desperate. The trains weren’t operating–those that they’d found were burnt, or laying off the tracks. They’d gone North rather than East, for Alva had known some points of safety in the area.
Unfortunately...it appeared they were too late.
Squinting against the high mounted sun, Alva nudged his horse forward, leading the group into the small town.
Junior tossed his father an annoyed expression, guiding his horse alongside Alva’s, armed with a shotgun. Richie was still behind him, trying very hard not to touch the younger Alva. “There ain’t nothin’ here,” Junior pointed out. “Everyone all gone. Why we stopping here?”
Alva didn’t answer him for a few moments, spitting slickly to the side as he searched for any possible dangers to their group. The town was intensely still–it appeared that no one was there, and hadn’t been for awhile. The hard packed dirt underfoot was undisturbed–no footprints belonging to man or animal marred the surface. The windows of visible buildings were smudged with dust. Everything looked ghostly in the sense of abandonment.
“We’ll need supplies,” he said gruffly. “Figure out what to do. Rest the horses.”
Junior frowned, figuring on him being right. He was quite parched, but he hadn’t yet complained. His father, during the journey from their home, had shot two of his men when they’d complained about the constant ride. A horse had been destroyed for collapsing under the load of money and valuables Alva had insisted on taking. Junior was just too tired and numb to really cause his father any trouble.
Looking around, he saw a dry goods store with a large barrel posted out front–the sign displayed broadcasted a small list of things that could be found inside. The group spread out cautiously, eyes roving about, looking for anything out of place and dangerous. Alva eyed the store.
“Two of you–! Go in there, see what’s there,” he ordered, glancing back at the others.
Many of them hesitated, looking at each other. More than wary after what they’d seen, leaving their rides seemed like a horrible idea. What if a quick getaway was needed? Junior glared back at them, then shot his father a disgusted look. “Why can’t you do it?”
Alva’s black eyes narrowed in his direction, his horse snorting restlessly as leather creaked. Junior clamped his mouth shut, then shot his cronies a peeved expression.
“Specs! Trapper! Git on in there!” he ordered, his horse shifting as he pointed his gun at each man.
Both men looked entirely pained, but slid off their horses, the women riding with them taking the reins cautiously. One of them, Patty, clutched them to her blood splattered bosom–her dress was in shambles, dusty–her makeup had darkened the area around her eyes.
Teresa, seated behind Casey, shot her a warning look, silent communication between the women warring between them. Trapper gave Patty a look, hesitating once he recognized the desperation in her eyes.
Junior, seeing none of this, snapped, “Hurry up!”
His voice rang through the stillness, startling more than one person and horse. Patty clutched the reins tightly, swallowing hard, her thick body shivering as the horse underneath her side-stepped. Richie looked over at her, holding loosely onto Junior’s sides, watching the horrid combination of orange and brown ruffle with a breeze that sent rancid smells their way. Patty’s hair caught the slight gust, moving over her eyes as she watched the men venture close toward the store.
Teresa watched her the entire time, stern features pulled into an intense expression of warning.
The others saw none of this, focused on Specs and Trapper as they walked up the worn stairs into the porch, looking obviously tense and nervous as they glanced around themselves. The silence grew thicker, the horses even pausing their movements as the redhead approached the door. Trying the handle, Specs opened the door cautiously, pushing his gun in first, then entering fully, Trapper right behind him.
The men were focused on their actions–Patty saw this. Tightening her thighs, she turned the horse, kicking her heels into its sides. The explosion of movement caused everyone to startle, looking over to see her racing furiously away from them.
“Shoot her!” Alva snarled, Junior cursing as he reined his horse to the side, intending to do just that. But he ended up dropping his weapon, cursing loudly once more as his father shot him a disgusted expression at his failure.
Casey didn’t hesitate–he began discharging a few shots until the woman gave a strangled jerk out of her saddle, flying into the dirt as the horse continued to run.
“Stop!” Teresa cried, Jessie breaking into tears once more, Angel hiding her face into the back of the cowboy she was riding with. “Please–!”
“Shut up!” Alva snapped, spurring his horse toward the fallen woman, her shrieks and sobbing filling the air as she struggled to reach her back, where she’d been shot. Everyone watched with a sort of horrified air as the older man reached the woman, firing a couple of times into her struggling form. Once the woman stilled, Jessie began crying harder, stuffing her knuckles into her mouth in an effort to quiet herself.
Teresa looked away, looking over at Angel with a sort of despairing expression.
Riding back, Alva reloaded his weapon. “Anyone else tries to leave, will be shot matter-of-factly,” he barked, eyeing the other whores pointedly. “Is that clear? Does eve’yone understand?”
“Shit...now we only gots four,” Junior complained, having jumped off his horse, holding the reins tightly in one hand while he retrieved his weapon.
“We’ll find more,” Alva told him gruffly, looking back at Specs and Trapper. “Git in there and look for supplies! Quit yer eyeballin’, boys!”
With low grumbles, both men ventured into the store, the door closing behind them.
In the end, the town was discovered completely empty. They found their supplies, and some horses that were unscathed by the chaos, running freely nearby. They were fitted with the supplies that were found, and a couple of the riders transferred their extra passengers onto them. By the time they had organized themselves, night had fallen. Alva found a nicely sized boarding house, and organized shelter for all of them. The remaining whores were locked into the kitchen, the only place without windows, while the others sought out rooms of comfort and security.
They were given a small stub of a candle, and it burned faintly, just providing enough light to keep the four aware of their cell.
Teresa, looking worn and drawn, pulled her knees up to her chest as she looked at the others. Jessie was curled up near the stove, staring at nothing–Angel was holding the bustier of her dress with fitful movements. Richie was sitting by himself near the pantry, examining his blistered feet with intense scrutiny. It was as if no one knew what to say to each other.
Someone’s growling stomach interrupted the silence, and the women shifted restlessly, Richie embarrassed by the noise.
Teresa rose from her position. “Might as well as make the best of this place,” she murmured, looking through the cupboards. “Let’s make ourselves useful. Look for somethin’ edible.”
“Why they wanna keep us?” Jessie asked, sullenly tossing Teresa a glance. “‘S not like we’ll be makin’ any money any time soon. This is bullshit.”
“Who knows with those vatos, Jessie. You seen what happened to Patty–ain’t like we can do anything about it,” Teresa answered tiredly, taking the wrapped roll of bread that Richie had found in the pantry. “We just gotta...do what they say. Maybe...maybe in the end, they realize that we won’t be doin’ them any good by just keepin’ us around. Y’know?”
“Yeah, but...what’s goin’ happen between then and now?” Jessie challenged, shooting the older woman a look. She pushed her dark hair from her face. “They gonna use us? They gonna keep using us for their needs?”
“Don’t know, Jessie. Shut up, now, and look for something for us to drink.”
“Why do we have to listen to you? You ain’t the boss of us!”
Teresa shot her a quelling look, then turned her attention to the wrapped parcel Richie handed her. Slowly, Angel pulled herself to her feet, disregarding her ripped dress to search for something liquid to drink.
“It won’t do for us to fight amongst each other,” Teresa added, frowning upon revealing a hard, flat piece of bread in the parcel. Richie pulled out a couple of packs of dried meat, muttering that there was nothing more in there. “Leave that for them guys. We’ll survive by keepin’ our mouths shut and stickin’ up for each other.”
Jessie gestured around helplessly. “Basically all we been doin’.”
“An’ look where it got us!”
“Yeah! No where! With them!”
“Jessie, it won’t be so bad,” Angel tried, shooting the dark haired woman a look. “They too stressed to use us. Guys can’t get it up when their minds are all occupied with other things.”
“Yeah, but...when it comes down to it...when they ready to focus on us, then what? We get the short end. They’ll get us pregnant. ‘Cept for you,” Jessie added, shooting Richie an annoyed look. “Can’t care for no babies. We don’t got the formula with us! I didn’t exactly pack it under my skirts when we was all invaded...”
“Then we’ll tell them. If so, just be prepared for them rutting our asses,” Teresa muttered.
Jessie gave a disgusted sound, hitting the wall with her back. “We’re human beings, too,” Jessie mumbled.
“But we’re owned human beings,” Teresa corrected, sitting opposite her as Angel set a pitcher of water from a nearby barrel between them. The four settled, and began to share what they’d found. Eating in silence, all of them were lost in their thoughts, the candle tossing shadows around them.
Hours passed–Teresa blew out the candle earlier, wanting to preserve what was left, and the four of them were huddled together against the door; to keep unwanted persons out.
Staring at the thick darkness, hearing nothing beyond the locked doors, Teresa wondered what was going to happen to them all. Where were they going to go? What were they going to do? She felt Angel shift against her, her head resting upon her shoulder. Teresa was uncomfortable upon feeling the woman’s bare breasts against her arm, but what could she do? Her dress was torn, and it wasn’t as if they could do anything about it.
On the other side of her, Richie sat stiffly, apparently just as awake as she. She could hear Jessie’s quiet breathing, but she wasn’t sure if she was asleep.
Teresa couldn’t sleep–too overly anxious, scared, and uncomfortable to rest. She exhaled heavily, shifting so that she was using Angel to prop herself up as well.
She wondered what the men were going to do when they woke up.
010101010110
Junior was sulking as he left his father’s room, glaring at Casey as the cowboy looked over at him questioningly.
“He don’t got any idea what he wants to do,” Junior spat, utterly annoyed at his father. The morning sun was rising, casting the silent town in a pinkish glow. Junior could tell his friend hadn’t caught up on sleep–just like him. Nobody could sleep after what they’d seen. “Goes on an’ on ‘bout bullshit, but he’s so fuckin’ old, he don’t got any clue.”
“We gonna stay here, long?” Casey asked anxiously. “Thought we heard noises, last night. Trapper an’ I. But...they kinda went away.”
Junior snorted as he took the stairway down. “Meanin’, ya’ll were too scared to check it out?”
“Mebbe it was nothin’, man. Shit. Animals, prolly.”
“Check them horses, then. Take a few guys with ya. I’mina check on the whores.”
Casey shrugged, walking off to do just that as Junior headed toward the kitchen. Once reaching the locked door, he pressed his ear against the wood, listening for any indication that they were still in there. It was quiet, but he doubted that they’d gotten away. He worked the lock, hearing the startled shuffle of movement behind the door, and opened the heavy wood. He saw the women first, then Richie, all of them looking exhausted and downcast. He frowned at them, eyes raking over every one and determining what to do with them.
Finally, he muttered, “One at a time for bathroom. Who’s first? An’ none of ya’ll better be bleeding, dammit. Them things could prolly smell it an’ come lookin’.”
All of them looked at each other, and Teresa instructed Jessie to go first. She speared Junior with a determined expression. “We need some things.”
“Like what?” he asked, with heavy exasperation that he was being ordered about.
“Her dress needs to be fixed,” Teresa pointed out Angel’s bustier. “We would like some sewing supplies.”
Junior scoffed at the woman’s dress, but shrugged as Jessie walked out. “Anything else?”
“Blankets. It was cold, here.”
“Deal with it.”
Teresa gave him an exasperated look. “Don’t be treating us like animals, Junior. We’re not animals!”
“Coulda fooled me. There’s four of ya here–ya’ll could keep each other warm. It ain’t that cold.”
“...Please. Some blankets.”
Junior snorted, and shut and locked the door, Jessie giving him a sullen look. With a mutter, he prodded her forward, instructing her on which direction to take.
By the time night had fallen, Angel examined her sewing, the others spread out around her, trying to occupy themselves with various things. Junior hadn't given into Teresa's request for blankets. Sitting topless, Angel cast Teresa a nervous expression, tossing the top toward her. Teresa examined her work, then frowned, gesturing for the needle and thread. Adding to Angel’s work, Teresa sighed heavily.
“I’d rather they not treat us like animals,” she grumbled, apparently changing her mind about her earlier arguments. “We’re just as human as they.”
“Do ya think that those things can really smell ya blood?” Jessie asked apprehensively, tossing Richie an embarrassed glance. But he was more abashed than them to hear such a conversation.
“...Dunno,” Teresa answered truthfully, tying off a small knot, and handing the top back to Angel. “Maybe it was all just a threat. To scare us. Y’know Junior, he’s an ass. Always tryin’ ta throw his weight around, an’ act all important.”
“He’s stupid,” Jessie agreed. “Ya’d think he’d have a little more cojones than lissen to that old man of his. Think he’s a pussy?”
“Of course!” Teresa snapped. “He is! They all are! They should just let us go!”
“But,” Angel countered timidly, pulling her top on. “I think it’s better to stay wit’ them. They got the guns–they can protect us. That’s what they doin’, anyway.”
“Yeah, because when they find a place to settle, they just gonna start sellin’ us, again,” Teresa grumbled, leaning against the door, kicking her feet out in front of her. “That’s why they went out of their way to take us along. We make their money.”
Angel thought of it that way, but shrugged. “Still...we’re just as valuable, then. They won’t let shit happen to us.”
Jessie snorted, crossing her arms over her chest. “Some chivalry.”
She looked over at Richie, who was sitting furthest from them, examining his glasses. She lifted her chin in his direction. “What’chu think, honky? Ain’t heard anything from you.”
Richie was startled at the attention that came to him, and, embarrassed, tossed her a short glance. He shrugged.
“I don’t know what to think,” he confessed quietly. “But I hate being treated this way.”
“Don’t you feel less of a man? Are you a man?” Jessie asked, frowning at him. There were times when he seemed so young, and incredibly naive. Mirage had behaved in a more mature manner than he. His voice was as soft and quiet as the young girl's. It irritated Jessie, sometimes.
“I...don’t...I wouldn’t want to be treated this way, anyway, regardless of gender.”
“Do you wish you were out there, wit’ them? I mean, doin’ them man things that makes ‘em all tough an’ shit?”
“I...I’ve never touched a gun. Nor ridden a horse, before, my entire life. I wouldn’t know what to do with either.”
Jessie snorted with disgust, tired of her own questions. She stared up at the ceiling. The candle flickered briefly, then died. Everyone held their breath, not moving. From their position, they could hear heavy footfalls coming from the outside, the shifting noises of movement down the hall. Angel sucked in a deep breath, and Teresa tensed against the door.
The movement stopped–but they knew it wasn’t the men that owned them.
For a few moments, the kitchen was silent, tense–then Jessie whispered, the sound almost too quiet to be heard, “That ain’t them, issit?”
Teresa shook her head, swallowing hard. It wasn’t the men–that much she was aware. Where were they?
The house shook suddenly, sending items in the pantry and cupboards rattling. The four of them shifted, and Teresa settled her weight against the door. “C’mon,” she panted. “If we hold it shut, they can’t come in.”
“I don’t wanna sit there!” Angel whimpered, as the house shuddered again. She muffled a scream behind her hands.
Jessie moved quickly, settling alongside Teresa.
“What is that?” she hissed, the floors rattling underneath them. It felt as if something large was rolling underneath the floorboards, sending them in a rocking motion forward and back. Angel screamed in horror, the cupboards flying open, items slamming to the floor.
Richie rose unsteadily from his position, trying not to panic, hearing the halls filling with motion and sound.
Then, everything went silent–still. No one dared to breathe, listening hard as nothing more happened.
Teresa and Jessie began to relax, struggling to breathe normally as they kept their weight against the door. The darkness kept the four from seeing each other, the silence deafening. Angel sucked in a breath, then held it, holding tightly onto the stove. Richie held his own position against the wall, not daring to breathe as he strained his ears to hear for anything unusual.
For several tense minutes, nothing happened–they couldn’t even hear anything beyond the door. More than one person was wondering where the men were–why couldn’t they hear them? Were they even alive?
“We’re going to die in here,” Angel whispered, muffling her own voice with her hands.
Teresa shook her head tightly, refusing to relax as she strained to hear any sort of movement from the men. She felt Jessie’s breath on her face.
“They still alive?” she asked tensely.
Richie swallowed hard, licking his lips. Unsure of what to do. They hadn’t any weapons–they hadn’t any way to escape. What was going to happen to them?
Light flickered as the candle re-lit itself, four sets of eyes darting toward the stump atop of the stove. Angel moved quickly away from the thing, hitting the wall opposite it, breathing heavily.
Teresa cast her a nervous look. “You didn’t do that?”
Angel shook her head tightly, staring at the flicking flame with wide, fear heavy eyes. Richie cast the others nervous looks, feeling his knees weakened as he wondered how that was possible.
For several moments, everyone stared at the flame in heavy, tense silence, not daring to breathe. Nothing was heard outside the room. No one knew what had happened, or what to do.
Richie was about to join the other two against the door when Angel seized suddenly, drawing in a strangled breath. Looking at her, he was stunned to see her eyes roll up into her head, her skin darkening with red–veins pulsed tightly against her skin, her throat tensing as her body drew in a continuous strangled sound.
No one moved, watching her with all the stiff disbelief that they’d felt earlier. Unsure of what they were seeing.
Angel’s body contorted away from the wall, her spine stiffening, head falling back. Her mouth widened with that continuous sound, air pinched and clenched as her lungs expanded. Her skin grew even darker, veins pulsating with strengthened vigor against her flesh. The veins in her eyes grew more distinguished, the pupils completely out of sight–her lashes fluttered, and her mouth widened.
Her hands were stiff and rigid–then the wrists bent at stiff angles, fingers curling, arms twisting inward into her body. She stopped drawing in air, convulsing in tight, rigid movements, her head whipping back and forth in violent movements.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Jessie cried, the two women shifting away from Angel’s proximity, Richie moving away from her as well.
Angel slammed back first against the wall, air leaving her widened mouth in a harsh sort of exhale, shoulders heaving upward as her hands curled and twisted in front of her. Convulsing wildly, she hit the wall several times in violent action, hair flying about.
Jessie shrieked, rising to her feet, pounding on the door as Teresa continued to gape at Angel in stiffened reaction. Richie tripped over a pile of pots that were lining one wall near the stove, stumbling as Angel began to hack in roughened, male tones.
Suddenly, she quieted, and relaxed. The other three paused, staring at her in silent expectation–the kitchen wholly quiet. The woman didn’t move–her face staring up at the ceiling, her body rigid. Her arms dropped to her sides, fingers relaxing. She was breathing normally. Jessie turned away from the door, Teresa pushing herself to her feet.
The candle flickered violently, almost going out–three sets of eyes moving toward it in desperation.
Angel exhaled, head falling forward, and lifting to look at the others. Her pupils still hadn’t returned–the whites of her eyes were still visible. Her lashes fluttered in rapid action, and her facial muscles seemed to tighten, lips opening to suck in a wet breath.
Her hands began to curl and inch upward toward her chest, in rigid action, as if she were going to seizure again–then her body relaxed, and her head dropped forward. Lifting again and spearing the two women with a leering expression. Her mouth was twisted, spittle dripping over her chin.
“I smell the smell of man’s cum on your breath,” Angel hissed, her voice not her own. That of a man’s. Her pupils returned, and her facial muscles tightened once more, neck tendons standing out. “Sluts! Whores! God’s whores! God’s whores! Reek! Ravage! Spit! Swallow! Disgusting, vile! Shit stain!”
“What the fuck’s th’ matter wit’ you?!” Teresa shrieked, Jessie once more pounding on the door and screaming for the men.
Jerkily, Angel looked over at Richie, who tensed against the stove, unable to move. “And you...sick! Vile! Desecration! You make me sick! Ride him like a horse! Shit! Shit! Eat my shit!”
“Angel?!” Teresa asked, drawing close to the door, Jessie casting the changed woman a wary look. “What’s the matter with you, girl? What’s the matter?”
Angel convulsed once, her shoulders going rigid, arms slack at her sides. Her face turned up at the ceiling, hissing and spitting, her own spittle hitting her face. She then straightened, giving the three an intensely insane look.
“Meat,” she announced, then lunged at the two women, snarling savagely.
Richie watched with a sense of disbelieving shock as Jessie and Teresa fought to keep her away from them. Angel was trying to bite them, her nails curling into their hair, their arms–snarling as angrily as a mad dog. He found strength to move, tripping over the pots to race over, wrapping an arm around Angel’s throat and pulling her back. The woman screeched in an inhuman manner, reaching back for him, her fingers curling into his hair and clothing.
Jessie pushed away from the door, Teresa turning to pound on it savagely, screaming for help.
Richie tripped as his feet entangled within the folds of Angel’s dress, and the pair of them hit the floor. Angel, still snarling, turned and climbed atop of him, her teeth baring down toward his face. Through some act of luck, Richie pushed at her chin, fingers just missing the clenching action of her bared teeth. They struggled violently, Angel screaming expletives as she raked at the boy’s shirt, trying to bite off anything within her reach. Jessie picked up a heavy skillet, and lunged at her, slamming it across her face.
The impact sent the demonic woman flying backwards, Richie picking himself up quickly. Teresa left the door as Angel slammed into the heavy wood. All three of them moved away from the heaving woman, who began to laugh in a demented manner. She pushed her hair from her face, spearing them with an expression not of her own. Her skin had turned a gruesome shade of green–a sickly smell emanated from her.
“All of you will be whores until the day you die,” she announced, but it wasn’t Angel speaking. It was a man, with a cultured voice; dripping with worldly knowledge.
Calmly, she brushed herself off, and rose, straightening her bodice. “Come now, you really think you can stop me? The three of you? So experienced to being on your backs–you can’t possibly think you can be anything more. Tainted, ruined, savaged–who would want you?”
Teresa, shaking, stared at the woman with disbelieving eyes. She looked at the others, noting that the three of them were pressed against the back wall. Jessie had armed herself with the skillet, holding it in front of her, her arm shaking wildly.
Angel watched them for a few moments, then reached down, gathering her skirts. She lifted them, piling them into one arm to expose the thick bush of her pubic hair.
With her other hand, she began ramming her fist against herself, cackling wildly. “You want this? Savage bitch, you want it? Women on women aren’t that bad. Come try me out. I’ll bet you haven’t been with a woman before, have you boy? Come and get it, children. Free goodies. I’m giving out free goodies!”
She laughed wildly, dropping her skirts, throwing her head back, arms slapping her sides. Then, just as abruptly, she stopped–looking at them sharply.
Lifting an eyebrow, she asked, “Do you really think you’ll live through this? Just give up. Give in to us. There’s no point in trying to resist. Really.”
Jessie, sucking in a deep breath, shook her head. “That ain’t Angel no more, girls. That’s something else.”
“What is it?” Richie asked, unable to look away from the ruined creature that faced them sullenly.
“Some sort of–of demon? I don’t know! I don’t know!”
Angel tilted her head curiously. She studied each one, her eyes then snaking toward the candle nearby. The other three looked at it–but she was closest.
Her teeth, when her lips pulled back into a vicious sneer, gleamed in the faint candlelight. “Time for night-night, kiddies.”
Hearing those words, the three tensed–then watched with rising panic as Angel quickly crossed the space between herself and the stove, blowing out the candle, plunging them into darkness.
She cackled, an inhuman sound that seemed to rattle off the walls of the kitchen.
010101010110
Junior was feeling much more relieved the next morning. He’d gotten some sleep, and felt a little rested. Alva had finally come up with a plan, and while Junior didn’t agree much with his father, he felt that this one wasn’t half bad. He left his room, listening to the sounds of morning–there weren’t any animals nearby, save for their horses, and it was more than eerie hearing nothing at all when he was so accustomed to hearing city noises.
The air was cool, and the sun was starting to rise–there were three cowboys standing at post, and they greeted him quietly when he neared them.
“Nothin’ goin’ on?” he asked them curiously.
“Nothin’,” one, Mitch, answered. “Quiet all night. We gonna stay here, man?”
“Nah. The old man’s fixin’ to talk to the lot of us, after breakfast. He got a plan. Sounds good, actually,” he confessed. “You guys need a rotation?”
“We’re good for now,” another, Tim, said with a nod. “Don’t think I could sleep, anyway.”
“I’m going to let the whores out. Mebbe see if some of ya’ll can cook? I can’t cook.”
“Andy can. We’ll wake ‘im up,” Mitch said, walking off toward the cowboy’s room.
Junior nodded in satisfaction, then descended the stairway, yawning loudly. He anticipated bacon, coffee and some eggs–something a little filling. He left the house to attend to his business, noting that the horses were still where they left them–that the streets were still empty. Nothing moved, not even a breeze.
Feeling chills race up his spine, he made his morning pee, shaking his shoulders out as the horses shifted nearby. He didn’t bother with the outhouse nearby–there was just something creepy about locking himself in there when there were appalling things about. He didn’t want to be caught inside when they attacked, or be in there and having one shoot up from the shit hole unexpectedly.
After that, he headed into the house, and headed toward the kitchen. He unlocked the door, opening it, ready to wake them up with gruff countenance. Angel spilled out with a thump of rigid action, hair spilling over his boots. He looked down at her with annoyance, intending to give her a piece of his mind when he noticed that her face was battered–her jaw hung to one side. Bruises colored her face, blood colored her hairline. He leapt backward with a startled curse, Angel’s head thumping heavily against the floor. Sightless eyes stared up at the ceiling.
Withdrawing his gun with clumsy action, Junior looked back at the kitchen. The walls had marks on them–as if someone had dragged their fingernails through the wood. He looked inside, seeing the other three huddled together against the back wall–staring at him with intense wariness, exhaustion. All of them looked battered and bloody–armed with kitchen tools and skillets.
He pushed the door wider, looking at the chaos. He stared at them in confused reaction. Then looked around the kitchen, where it was obvious a battle had been fought. Blood was everywhere.
He looked back at the other three.
“What’s...what’s goin’ on?” he asked slowly, carefully. The three continued staring at him, and he grew exasperated. “What the hell happened, here? Ya’ll git up–git up, an’ get over here. Now. Before I get pissed.”
Teresa looked at the others questioningly. She had scratches from nails down one side of her face, swollen and puffy, oozing with the movement she made as she spoke. Her bodice was ripped, her breasts nearly spilling out save for a few threads that kept them in place. “Sounds like ‘im...”
“Smells like him,” Jessie muttered low. She herself had scratches over her cheek, one eye reddened violently. She had the most blood spackles over her exposed skin, and scratches all over her chest and upper arms.
“Looks the same,” Richie whispered, with a shrug. His nose was bloodied, an eye reddened in the same way as Jessie’s, shirt ripped at the collar. His glasses were no where to be seen.
“Ya’ll think it’s him? He ain’t like her?” Jessie asked, throwing Junior a wary glance, brushing her dark hair from her face.
Junior grew exasperated, walking in and charging over. Immediately, all three tensed, bringing up their weapons, and he grew startled, stopping short as he faced a skillet, a rolling pin and a knife sharpener. He was a little thankful that Casey had brains to think of removing the sharper objects from the kitchen before they’d locked them in there.
He brought his gun up and aimed it in their general direction. “Ya’ll lower those things, right now. Y’all are pissin’ me off. Yer gonna git it if’n you don’t listen to me.”
“What the hell happened?” Alva’s alarmed voice caught their attention. Junior looked back to see his father examining Angel, then barging in, looking at the mess. “What happened, here? What’s goin’ on?”
“Don’t know. They all crazed, alla sudden,” Junior muttered, looking at the three. “Lower yer fuckin’ weapons, you stupid pieces of shit!”
With an exasperated sigh, Alva shoved his son aside, pushing the skillet aside to drag Jessie to her feet. He pulled her out, Junior lowering his gun with a sort of irritated expression. As Teresa and Richie straightened, he slipped the gun into its respective holster, and reached out to grab Richie, who was closest to him. He dragged him out, Teresa following closely as Alva shook some answers out from Jessie.
Hearing what happened, Junior shoved Richie forward, pushing Teresa to follow him, keeping them both in sight. He looked back down at the dead whore at his feet, hearing how she’d suddenly turned on them–how the three managed to kill her. He looked at the three, who looked entirely exhausted, and shook his head in disgust.
Alva looked back at him, obviously as puzzled as they as to how Angel had suddenly grown demonic. Possessed. For a moment, he looked at a lost for what to do.
Then, blinking, he looked over at Teresa. “Is that the truth of it?” he demanded.
She nodded solemnly. “Yes. We wouldn’t just kill her, sir. She attacked us.”
“She wasn’t herself,” Richie added quietly. He was rubbing at bite marks on his forearms, looking a little dazed. “She spoke like a man, at times.”
Alva looked at Junior, who shrugged, unsure of what to do, or think. The older man looked back at the three, who looked dead on their feet. He gave a look of disgust, glancing at Junior, signaling them. “Get them cleaned an’ bandaged up. Lock ‘em in a room closer to ours. Get those pieces of shit that were supposed to stand guard down here. Why didn’t they hear anythin’?”
“Dad, they–!”
“Now, Junior! Git them fixed up! Can’t have them rotting on us.” With a disgusted look at his son, Alva turned, marching for the front. “An’ get that body out of here! Drag it someplace where it won’t come back!”
Junior ground his teeth, all his muscles tensed, irritation shooting off of him in waves. He looked at the three, noting their injuries and exhaustion. With heavy annoyance, he growled, waving a hand, “Let’s go. Upstairs. Get that shit looked at.”
“I have to use the bathroom,” Jessie muttered, not moving.
“Ain’t no one goin’ anywhere ‘til ya’ll’s fixed!”
“We ain’t bleeding to death!” Teresa snapped, facing him. “We need to relieve ourselves!”
Fiercely irritated that they were back talking him, Junior turned to face them, feeling his face warm as he eyed them evenly. “Either you git to listenin’, or git punished. Ya’ll want that? Ya’ll want’cher stupid asses kicked? I kin get some friends rounded up and–! What are you doing?!”
He ended in a shriek as Jessie pulled up her skirts, squatted, and began to pee on the floor. Teresa snickered, and Richie looked away, embarrassed as Jessie gave a relieved sigh. Junior, at a loss of what to do, flung his arms out with reaction.
“I had to pee!” Jessie shouted at him. “You wouldn’t let me pee!”
Growling low, Junior bellowed for Casey. The cowboy, accompanied by others, hurried down the stairway, looking at Jessie in stunned reaction. The woman gave a low purr, straightened, and stepped over the wide puddle she’d made before lowering her skirts.
She gave them all a sweet smile. “Anyone up for a golden shower?”
Junior smacked her across the face, shoving her toward the nearest cowboy. “Git her upstairs, lock her in Spec’s room. Someone, get those other two outside, ‘fore they start marking up the place like that cunt did! Casey, you an’ me gotta git rid of this body, quick.”
“What happened–?”
“Let’s just get goin’! Answer that later! Someone, get them to the bathroom!” Junior then shouted in exasperation when no one moved.
Trapper herded both Richie and Teresa outside with wary looks cast at Angel’s body. Casey reluctantly stood over the corpse with a wrinkled nose, Junior casting the puddle an annoyed look.
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN STATIC AND OTHER ASSOCIATED CHARACTERS!
Based somewhat on that thrilling vid-game, Darkwatch. Heh. My inspiration for something gory and dark.
A/N: I apologize for the long wait...but I was very melancholy with personal issues...sorry if this chapt don’t sound like the others and was rushed, but it’s very hard for me to write, nowadays.
Chapter Eight:
Possession
Alva’s horse paced with agitation, the older man looking around himself with a sort of calculating air. Behind him, his son and his friends glanced about with similar expressions. One of the women was crying, her sniffles audible, carrying along the breeze that sent dust about.
“Shut her up,” Alva snapped in a low hiss, glancing over his shoulder.
The town they’d arrived was silent; still–abandoned in a haste. Settled deep within a valley void of wide open spaces, the Alvas and their money-makers had no clue where to go. The group of thirteen–five whores and seven men–were tired, hungry and desperate. The trains weren’t operating–those that they’d found were burnt, or laying off the tracks. They’d gone North rather than East, for Alva had known some points of safety in the area.
Unfortunately...it appeared they were too late.
Squinting against the high mounted sun, Alva nudged his horse forward, leading the group into the small town.
Junior tossed his father an annoyed expression, guiding his horse alongside Alva’s, armed with a shotgun. Richie was still behind him, trying very hard not to touch the younger Alva. “There ain’t nothin’ here,” Junior pointed out. “Everyone all gone. Why we stopping here?”
Alva didn’t answer him for a few moments, spitting slickly to the side as he searched for any possible dangers to their group. The town was intensely still–it appeared that no one was there, and hadn’t been for awhile. The hard packed dirt underfoot was undisturbed–no footprints belonging to man or animal marred the surface. The windows of visible buildings were smudged with dust. Everything looked ghostly in the sense of abandonment.
“We’ll need supplies,” he said gruffly. “Figure out what to do. Rest the horses.”
Junior frowned, figuring on him being right. He was quite parched, but he hadn’t yet complained. His father, during the journey from their home, had shot two of his men when they’d complained about the constant ride. A horse had been destroyed for collapsing under the load of money and valuables Alva had insisted on taking. Junior was just too tired and numb to really cause his father any trouble.
Looking around, he saw a dry goods store with a large barrel posted out front–the sign displayed broadcasted a small list of things that could be found inside. The group spread out cautiously, eyes roving about, looking for anything out of place and dangerous. Alva eyed the store.
“Two of you–! Go in there, see what’s there,” he ordered, glancing back at the others.
Many of them hesitated, looking at each other. More than wary after what they’d seen, leaving their rides seemed like a horrible idea. What if a quick getaway was needed? Junior glared back at them, then shot his father a disgusted look. “Why can’t you do it?”
Alva’s black eyes narrowed in his direction, his horse snorting restlessly as leather creaked. Junior clamped his mouth shut, then shot his cronies a peeved expression.
“Specs! Trapper! Git on in there!” he ordered, his horse shifting as he pointed his gun at each man.
Both men looked entirely pained, but slid off their horses, the women riding with them taking the reins cautiously. One of them, Patty, clutched them to her blood splattered bosom–her dress was in shambles, dusty–her makeup had darkened the area around her eyes.
Teresa, seated behind Casey, shot her a warning look, silent communication between the women warring between them. Trapper gave Patty a look, hesitating once he recognized the desperation in her eyes.
Junior, seeing none of this, snapped, “Hurry up!”
His voice rang through the stillness, startling more than one person and horse. Patty clutched the reins tightly, swallowing hard, her thick body shivering as the horse underneath her side-stepped. Richie looked over at her, holding loosely onto Junior’s sides, watching the horrid combination of orange and brown ruffle with a breeze that sent rancid smells their way. Patty’s hair caught the slight gust, moving over her eyes as she watched the men venture close toward the store.
Teresa watched her the entire time, stern features pulled into an intense expression of warning.
The others saw none of this, focused on Specs and Trapper as they walked up the worn stairs into the porch, looking obviously tense and nervous as they glanced around themselves. The silence grew thicker, the horses even pausing their movements as the redhead approached the door. Trying the handle, Specs opened the door cautiously, pushing his gun in first, then entering fully, Trapper right behind him.
The men were focused on their actions–Patty saw this. Tightening her thighs, she turned the horse, kicking her heels into its sides. The explosion of movement caused everyone to startle, looking over to see her racing furiously away from them.
“Shoot her!” Alva snarled, Junior cursing as he reined his horse to the side, intending to do just that. But he ended up dropping his weapon, cursing loudly once more as his father shot him a disgusted expression at his failure.
Casey didn’t hesitate–he began discharging a few shots until the woman gave a strangled jerk out of her saddle, flying into the dirt as the horse continued to run.
“Stop!” Teresa cried, Jessie breaking into tears once more, Angel hiding her face into the back of the cowboy she was riding with. “Please–!”
“Shut up!” Alva snapped, spurring his horse toward the fallen woman, her shrieks and sobbing filling the air as she struggled to reach her back, where she’d been shot. Everyone watched with a sort of horrified air as the older man reached the woman, firing a couple of times into her struggling form. Once the woman stilled, Jessie began crying harder, stuffing her knuckles into her mouth in an effort to quiet herself.
Teresa looked away, looking over at Angel with a sort of despairing expression.
Riding back, Alva reloaded his weapon. “Anyone else tries to leave, will be shot matter-of-factly,” he barked, eyeing the other whores pointedly. “Is that clear? Does eve’yone understand?”
“Shit...now we only gots four,” Junior complained, having jumped off his horse, holding the reins tightly in one hand while he retrieved his weapon.
“We’ll find more,” Alva told him gruffly, looking back at Specs and Trapper. “Git in there and look for supplies! Quit yer eyeballin’, boys!”
With low grumbles, both men ventured into the store, the door closing behind them.
In the end, the town was discovered completely empty. They found their supplies, and some horses that were unscathed by the chaos, running freely nearby. They were fitted with the supplies that were found, and a couple of the riders transferred their extra passengers onto them. By the time they had organized themselves, night had fallen. Alva found a nicely sized boarding house, and organized shelter for all of them. The remaining whores were locked into the kitchen, the only place without windows, while the others sought out rooms of comfort and security.
They were given a small stub of a candle, and it burned faintly, just providing enough light to keep the four aware of their cell.
Teresa, looking worn and drawn, pulled her knees up to her chest as she looked at the others. Jessie was curled up near the stove, staring at nothing–Angel was holding the bustier of her dress with fitful movements. Richie was sitting by himself near the pantry, examining his blistered feet with intense scrutiny. It was as if no one knew what to say to each other.
Someone’s growling stomach interrupted the silence, and the women shifted restlessly, Richie embarrassed by the noise.
Teresa rose from her position. “Might as well as make the best of this place,” she murmured, looking through the cupboards. “Let’s make ourselves useful. Look for somethin’ edible.”
“Why they wanna keep us?” Jessie asked, sullenly tossing Teresa a glance. “‘S not like we’ll be makin’ any money any time soon. This is bullshit.”
“Who knows with those vatos, Jessie. You seen what happened to Patty–ain’t like we can do anything about it,” Teresa answered tiredly, taking the wrapped roll of bread that Richie had found in the pantry. “We just gotta...do what they say. Maybe...maybe in the end, they realize that we won’t be doin’ them any good by just keepin’ us around. Y’know?”
“Yeah, but...what’s goin’ happen between then and now?” Jessie challenged, shooting the older woman a look. She pushed her dark hair from her face. “They gonna use us? They gonna keep using us for their needs?”
“Don’t know, Jessie. Shut up, now, and look for something for us to drink.”
“Why do we have to listen to you? You ain’t the boss of us!”
Teresa shot her a quelling look, then turned her attention to the wrapped parcel Richie handed her. Slowly, Angel pulled herself to her feet, disregarding her ripped dress to search for something liquid to drink.
“It won’t do for us to fight amongst each other,” Teresa added, frowning upon revealing a hard, flat piece of bread in the parcel. Richie pulled out a couple of packs of dried meat, muttering that there was nothing more in there. “Leave that for them guys. We’ll survive by keepin’ our mouths shut and stickin’ up for each other.”
Jessie gestured around helplessly. “Basically all we been doin’.”
“An’ look where it got us!”
“Yeah! No where! With them!”
“Jessie, it won’t be so bad,” Angel tried, shooting the dark haired woman a look. “They too stressed to use us. Guys can’t get it up when their minds are all occupied with other things.”
“Yeah, but...when it comes down to it...when they ready to focus on us, then what? We get the short end. They’ll get us pregnant. ‘Cept for you,” Jessie added, shooting Richie an annoyed look. “Can’t care for no babies. We don’t got the formula with us! I didn’t exactly pack it under my skirts when we was all invaded...”
“Then we’ll tell them. If so, just be prepared for them rutting our asses,” Teresa muttered.
Jessie gave a disgusted sound, hitting the wall with her back. “We’re human beings, too,” Jessie mumbled.
“But we’re owned human beings,” Teresa corrected, sitting opposite her as Angel set a pitcher of water from a nearby barrel between them. The four settled, and began to share what they’d found. Eating in silence, all of them were lost in their thoughts, the candle tossing shadows around them.
Hours passed–Teresa blew out the candle earlier, wanting to preserve what was left, and the four of them were huddled together against the door; to keep unwanted persons out.
Staring at the thick darkness, hearing nothing beyond the locked doors, Teresa wondered what was going to happen to them all. Where were they going to go? What were they going to do? She felt Angel shift against her, her head resting upon her shoulder. Teresa was uncomfortable upon feeling the woman’s bare breasts against her arm, but what could she do? Her dress was torn, and it wasn’t as if they could do anything about it.
On the other side of her, Richie sat stiffly, apparently just as awake as she. She could hear Jessie’s quiet breathing, but she wasn’t sure if she was asleep.
Teresa couldn’t sleep–too overly anxious, scared, and uncomfortable to rest. She exhaled heavily, shifting so that she was using Angel to prop herself up as well.
She wondered what the men were going to do when they woke up.
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Junior was sulking as he left his father’s room, glaring at Casey as the cowboy looked over at him questioningly.
“He don’t got any idea what he wants to do,” Junior spat, utterly annoyed at his father. The morning sun was rising, casting the silent town in a pinkish glow. Junior could tell his friend hadn’t caught up on sleep–just like him. Nobody could sleep after what they’d seen. “Goes on an’ on ‘bout bullshit, but he’s so fuckin’ old, he don’t got any clue.”
“We gonna stay here, long?” Casey asked anxiously. “Thought we heard noises, last night. Trapper an’ I. But...they kinda went away.”
Junior snorted as he took the stairway down. “Meanin’, ya’ll were too scared to check it out?”
“Mebbe it was nothin’, man. Shit. Animals, prolly.”
“Check them horses, then. Take a few guys with ya. I’mina check on the whores.”
Casey shrugged, walking off to do just that as Junior headed toward the kitchen. Once reaching the locked door, he pressed his ear against the wood, listening for any indication that they were still in there. It was quiet, but he doubted that they’d gotten away. He worked the lock, hearing the startled shuffle of movement behind the door, and opened the heavy wood. He saw the women first, then Richie, all of them looking exhausted and downcast. He frowned at them, eyes raking over every one and determining what to do with them.
Finally, he muttered, “One at a time for bathroom. Who’s first? An’ none of ya’ll better be bleeding, dammit. Them things could prolly smell it an’ come lookin’.”
All of them looked at each other, and Teresa instructed Jessie to go first. She speared Junior with a determined expression. “We need some things.”
“Like what?” he asked, with heavy exasperation that he was being ordered about.
“Her dress needs to be fixed,” Teresa pointed out Angel’s bustier. “We would like some sewing supplies.”
Junior scoffed at the woman’s dress, but shrugged as Jessie walked out. “Anything else?”
“Blankets. It was cold, here.”
“Deal with it.”
Teresa gave him an exasperated look. “Don’t be treating us like animals, Junior. We’re not animals!”
“Coulda fooled me. There’s four of ya here–ya’ll could keep each other warm. It ain’t that cold.”
“...Please. Some blankets.”
Junior snorted, and shut and locked the door, Jessie giving him a sullen look. With a mutter, he prodded her forward, instructing her on which direction to take.
By the time night had fallen, Angel examined her sewing, the others spread out around her, trying to occupy themselves with various things. Junior hadn't given into Teresa's request for blankets. Sitting topless, Angel cast Teresa a nervous expression, tossing the top toward her. Teresa examined her work, then frowned, gesturing for the needle and thread. Adding to Angel’s work, Teresa sighed heavily.
“I’d rather they not treat us like animals,” she grumbled, apparently changing her mind about her earlier arguments. “We’re just as human as they.”
“Do ya think that those things can really smell ya blood?” Jessie asked apprehensively, tossing Richie an embarrassed glance. But he was more abashed than them to hear such a conversation.
“...Dunno,” Teresa answered truthfully, tying off a small knot, and handing the top back to Angel. “Maybe it was all just a threat. To scare us. Y’know Junior, he’s an ass. Always tryin’ ta throw his weight around, an’ act all important.”
“He’s stupid,” Jessie agreed. “Ya’d think he’d have a little more cojones than lissen to that old man of his. Think he’s a pussy?”
“Of course!” Teresa snapped. “He is! They all are! They should just let us go!”
“But,” Angel countered timidly, pulling her top on. “I think it’s better to stay wit’ them. They got the guns–they can protect us. That’s what they doin’, anyway.”
“Yeah, because when they find a place to settle, they just gonna start sellin’ us, again,” Teresa grumbled, leaning against the door, kicking her feet out in front of her. “That’s why they went out of their way to take us along. We make their money.”
Angel thought of it that way, but shrugged. “Still...we’re just as valuable, then. They won’t let shit happen to us.”
Jessie snorted, crossing her arms over her chest. “Some chivalry.”
She looked over at Richie, who was sitting furthest from them, examining his glasses. She lifted her chin in his direction. “What’chu think, honky? Ain’t heard anything from you.”
Richie was startled at the attention that came to him, and, embarrassed, tossed her a short glance. He shrugged.
“I don’t know what to think,” he confessed quietly. “But I hate being treated this way.”
“Don’t you feel less of a man? Are you a man?” Jessie asked, frowning at him. There were times when he seemed so young, and incredibly naive. Mirage had behaved in a more mature manner than he. His voice was as soft and quiet as the young girl's. It irritated Jessie, sometimes.
“I...don’t...I wouldn’t want to be treated this way, anyway, regardless of gender.”
“Do you wish you were out there, wit’ them? I mean, doin’ them man things that makes ‘em all tough an’ shit?”
“I...I’ve never touched a gun. Nor ridden a horse, before, my entire life. I wouldn’t know what to do with either.”
Jessie snorted with disgust, tired of her own questions. She stared up at the ceiling. The candle flickered briefly, then died. Everyone held their breath, not moving. From their position, they could hear heavy footfalls coming from the outside, the shifting noises of movement down the hall. Angel sucked in a deep breath, and Teresa tensed against the door.
The movement stopped–but they knew it wasn’t the men that owned them.
For a few moments, the kitchen was silent, tense–then Jessie whispered, the sound almost too quiet to be heard, “That ain’t them, issit?”
Teresa shook her head, swallowing hard. It wasn’t the men–that much she was aware. Where were they?
The house shook suddenly, sending items in the pantry and cupboards rattling. The four of them shifted, and Teresa settled her weight against the door. “C’mon,” she panted. “If we hold it shut, they can’t come in.”
“I don’t wanna sit there!” Angel whimpered, as the house shuddered again. She muffled a scream behind her hands.
Jessie moved quickly, settling alongside Teresa.
“What is that?” she hissed, the floors rattling underneath them. It felt as if something large was rolling underneath the floorboards, sending them in a rocking motion forward and back. Angel screamed in horror, the cupboards flying open, items slamming to the floor.
Richie rose unsteadily from his position, trying not to panic, hearing the halls filling with motion and sound.
Then, everything went silent–still. No one dared to breathe, listening hard as nothing more happened.
Teresa and Jessie began to relax, struggling to breathe normally as they kept their weight against the door. The darkness kept the four from seeing each other, the silence deafening. Angel sucked in a breath, then held it, holding tightly onto the stove. Richie held his own position against the wall, not daring to breathe as he strained his ears to hear for anything unusual.
For several tense minutes, nothing happened–they couldn’t even hear anything beyond the door. More than one person was wondering where the men were–why couldn’t they hear them? Were they even alive?
“We’re going to die in here,” Angel whispered, muffling her own voice with her hands.
Teresa shook her head tightly, refusing to relax as she strained to hear any sort of movement from the men. She felt Jessie’s breath on her face.
“They still alive?” she asked tensely.
Richie swallowed hard, licking his lips. Unsure of what to do. They hadn’t any weapons–they hadn’t any way to escape. What was going to happen to them?
Light flickered as the candle re-lit itself, four sets of eyes darting toward the stump atop of the stove. Angel moved quickly away from the thing, hitting the wall opposite it, breathing heavily.
Teresa cast her a nervous look. “You didn’t do that?”
Angel shook her head tightly, staring at the flicking flame with wide, fear heavy eyes. Richie cast the others nervous looks, feeling his knees weakened as he wondered how that was possible.
For several moments, everyone stared at the flame in heavy, tense silence, not daring to breathe. Nothing was heard outside the room. No one knew what had happened, or what to do.
Richie was about to join the other two against the door when Angel seized suddenly, drawing in a strangled breath. Looking at her, he was stunned to see her eyes roll up into her head, her skin darkening with red–veins pulsed tightly against her skin, her throat tensing as her body drew in a continuous strangled sound.
No one moved, watching her with all the stiff disbelief that they’d felt earlier. Unsure of what they were seeing.
Angel’s body contorted away from the wall, her spine stiffening, head falling back. Her mouth widened with that continuous sound, air pinched and clenched as her lungs expanded. Her skin grew even darker, veins pulsating with strengthened vigor against her flesh. The veins in her eyes grew more distinguished, the pupils completely out of sight–her lashes fluttered, and her mouth widened.
Her hands were stiff and rigid–then the wrists bent at stiff angles, fingers curling, arms twisting inward into her body. She stopped drawing in air, convulsing in tight, rigid movements, her head whipping back and forth in violent movements.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Jessie cried, the two women shifting away from Angel’s proximity, Richie moving away from her as well.
Angel slammed back first against the wall, air leaving her widened mouth in a harsh sort of exhale, shoulders heaving upward as her hands curled and twisted in front of her. Convulsing wildly, she hit the wall several times in violent action, hair flying about.
Jessie shrieked, rising to her feet, pounding on the door as Teresa continued to gape at Angel in stiffened reaction. Richie tripped over a pile of pots that were lining one wall near the stove, stumbling as Angel began to hack in roughened, male tones.
Suddenly, she quieted, and relaxed. The other three paused, staring at her in silent expectation–the kitchen wholly quiet. The woman didn’t move–her face staring up at the ceiling, her body rigid. Her arms dropped to her sides, fingers relaxing. She was breathing normally. Jessie turned away from the door, Teresa pushing herself to her feet.
The candle flickered violently, almost going out–three sets of eyes moving toward it in desperation.
Angel exhaled, head falling forward, and lifting to look at the others. Her pupils still hadn’t returned–the whites of her eyes were still visible. Her lashes fluttered in rapid action, and her facial muscles seemed to tighten, lips opening to suck in a wet breath.
Her hands began to curl and inch upward toward her chest, in rigid action, as if she were going to seizure again–then her body relaxed, and her head dropped forward. Lifting again and spearing the two women with a leering expression. Her mouth was twisted, spittle dripping over her chin.
“I smell the smell of man’s cum on your breath,” Angel hissed, her voice not her own. That of a man’s. Her pupils returned, and her facial muscles tightened once more, neck tendons standing out. “Sluts! Whores! God’s whores! God’s whores! Reek! Ravage! Spit! Swallow! Disgusting, vile! Shit stain!”
“What the fuck’s th’ matter wit’ you?!” Teresa shrieked, Jessie once more pounding on the door and screaming for the men.
Jerkily, Angel looked over at Richie, who tensed against the stove, unable to move. “And you...sick! Vile! Desecration! You make me sick! Ride him like a horse! Shit! Shit! Eat my shit!”
“Angel?!” Teresa asked, drawing close to the door, Jessie casting the changed woman a wary look. “What’s the matter with you, girl? What’s the matter?”
Angel convulsed once, her shoulders going rigid, arms slack at her sides. Her face turned up at the ceiling, hissing and spitting, her own spittle hitting her face. She then straightened, giving the three an intensely insane look.
“Meat,” she announced, then lunged at the two women, snarling savagely.
Richie watched with a sense of disbelieving shock as Jessie and Teresa fought to keep her away from them. Angel was trying to bite them, her nails curling into their hair, their arms–snarling as angrily as a mad dog. He found strength to move, tripping over the pots to race over, wrapping an arm around Angel’s throat and pulling her back. The woman screeched in an inhuman manner, reaching back for him, her fingers curling into his hair and clothing.
Jessie pushed away from the door, Teresa turning to pound on it savagely, screaming for help.
Richie tripped as his feet entangled within the folds of Angel’s dress, and the pair of them hit the floor. Angel, still snarling, turned and climbed atop of him, her teeth baring down toward his face. Through some act of luck, Richie pushed at her chin, fingers just missing the clenching action of her bared teeth. They struggled violently, Angel screaming expletives as she raked at the boy’s shirt, trying to bite off anything within her reach. Jessie picked up a heavy skillet, and lunged at her, slamming it across her face.
The impact sent the demonic woman flying backwards, Richie picking himself up quickly. Teresa left the door as Angel slammed into the heavy wood. All three of them moved away from the heaving woman, who began to laugh in a demented manner. She pushed her hair from her face, spearing them with an expression not of her own. Her skin had turned a gruesome shade of green–a sickly smell emanated from her.
“All of you will be whores until the day you die,” she announced, but it wasn’t Angel speaking. It was a man, with a cultured voice; dripping with worldly knowledge.
Calmly, she brushed herself off, and rose, straightening her bodice. “Come now, you really think you can stop me? The three of you? So experienced to being on your backs–you can’t possibly think you can be anything more. Tainted, ruined, savaged–who would want you?”
Teresa, shaking, stared at the woman with disbelieving eyes. She looked at the others, noting that the three of them were pressed against the back wall. Jessie had armed herself with the skillet, holding it in front of her, her arm shaking wildly.
Angel watched them for a few moments, then reached down, gathering her skirts. She lifted them, piling them into one arm to expose the thick bush of her pubic hair.
With her other hand, she began ramming her fist against herself, cackling wildly. “You want this? Savage bitch, you want it? Women on women aren’t that bad. Come try me out. I’ll bet you haven’t been with a woman before, have you boy? Come and get it, children. Free goodies. I’m giving out free goodies!”
She laughed wildly, dropping her skirts, throwing her head back, arms slapping her sides. Then, just as abruptly, she stopped–looking at them sharply.
Lifting an eyebrow, she asked, “Do you really think you’ll live through this? Just give up. Give in to us. There’s no point in trying to resist. Really.”
Jessie, sucking in a deep breath, shook her head. “That ain’t Angel no more, girls. That’s something else.”
“What is it?” Richie asked, unable to look away from the ruined creature that faced them sullenly.
“Some sort of–of demon? I don’t know! I don’t know!”
Angel tilted her head curiously. She studied each one, her eyes then snaking toward the candle nearby. The other three looked at it–but she was closest.
Her teeth, when her lips pulled back into a vicious sneer, gleamed in the faint candlelight. “Time for night-night, kiddies.”
Hearing those words, the three tensed–then watched with rising panic as Angel quickly crossed the space between herself and the stove, blowing out the candle, plunging them into darkness.
She cackled, an inhuman sound that seemed to rattle off the walls of the kitchen.
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Junior was feeling much more relieved the next morning. He’d gotten some sleep, and felt a little rested. Alva had finally come up with a plan, and while Junior didn’t agree much with his father, he felt that this one wasn’t half bad. He left his room, listening to the sounds of morning–there weren’t any animals nearby, save for their horses, and it was more than eerie hearing nothing at all when he was so accustomed to hearing city noises.
The air was cool, and the sun was starting to rise–there were three cowboys standing at post, and they greeted him quietly when he neared them.
“Nothin’ goin’ on?” he asked them curiously.
“Nothin’,” one, Mitch, answered. “Quiet all night. We gonna stay here, man?”
“Nah. The old man’s fixin’ to talk to the lot of us, after breakfast. He got a plan. Sounds good, actually,” he confessed. “You guys need a rotation?”
“We’re good for now,” another, Tim, said with a nod. “Don’t think I could sleep, anyway.”
“I’m going to let the whores out. Mebbe see if some of ya’ll can cook? I can’t cook.”
“Andy can. We’ll wake ‘im up,” Mitch said, walking off toward the cowboy’s room.
Junior nodded in satisfaction, then descended the stairway, yawning loudly. He anticipated bacon, coffee and some eggs–something a little filling. He left the house to attend to his business, noting that the horses were still where they left them–that the streets were still empty. Nothing moved, not even a breeze.
Feeling chills race up his spine, he made his morning pee, shaking his shoulders out as the horses shifted nearby. He didn’t bother with the outhouse nearby–there was just something creepy about locking himself in there when there were appalling things about. He didn’t want to be caught inside when they attacked, or be in there and having one shoot up from the shit hole unexpectedly.
After that, he headed into the house, and headed toward the kitchen. He unlocked the door, opening it, ready to wake them up with gruff countenance. Angel spilled out with a thump of rigid action, hair spilling over his boots. He looked down at her with annoyance, intending to give her a piece of his mind when he noticed that her face was battered–her jaw hung to one side. Bruises colored her face, blood colored her hairline. He leapt backward with a startled curse, Angel’s head thumping heavily against the floor. Sightless eyes stared up at the ceiling.
Withdrawing his gun with clumsy action, Junior looked back at the kitchen. The walls had marks on them–as if someone had dragged their fingernails through the wood. He looked inside, seeing the other three huddled together against the back wall–staring at him with intense wariness, exhaustion. All of them looked battered and bloody–armed with kitchen tools and skillets.
He pushed the door wider, looking at the chaos. He stared at them in confused reaction. Then looked around the kitchen, where it was obvious a battle had been fought. Blood was everywhere.
He looked back at the other three.
“What’s...what’s goin’ on?” he asked slowly, carefully. The three continued staring at him, and he grew exasperated. “What the hell happened, here? Ya’ll git up–git up, an’ get over here. Now. Before I get pissed.”
Teresa looked at the others questioningly. She had scratches from nails down one side of her face, swollen and puffy, oozing with the movement she made as she spoke. Her bodice was ripped, her breasts nearly spilling out save for a few threads that kept them in place. “Sounds like ‘im...”
“Smells like him,” Jessie muttered low. She herself had scratches over her cheek, one eye reddened violently. She had the most blood spackles over her exposed skin, and scratches all over her chest and upper arms.
“Looks the same,” Richie whispered, with a shrug. His nose was bloodied, an eye reddened in the same way as Jessie’s, shirt ripped at the collar. His glasses were no where to be seen.
“Ya’ll think it’s him? He ain’t like her?” Jessie asked, throwing Junior a wary glance, brushing her dark hair from her face.
Junior grew exasperated, walking in and charging over. Immediately, all three tensed, bringing up their weapons, and he grew startled, stopping short as he faced a skillet, a rolling pin and a knife sharpener. He was a little thankful that Casey had brains to think of removing the sharper objects from the kitchen before they’d locked them in there.
He brought his gun up and aimed it in their general direction. “Ya’ll lower those things, right now. Y’all are pissin’ me off. Yer gonna git it if’n you don’t listen to me.”
“What the hell happened?” Alva’s alarmed voice caught their attention. Junior looked back to see his father examining Angel, then barging in, looking at the mess. “What happened, here? What’s goin’ on?”
“Don’t know. They all crazed, alla sudden,” Junior muttered, looking at the three. “Lower yer fuckin’ weapons, you stupid pieces of shit!”
With an exasperated sigh, Alva shoved his son aside, pushing the skillet aside to drag Jessie to her feet. He pulled her out, Junior lowering his gun with a sort of irritated expression. As Teresa and Richie straightened, he slipped the gun into its respective holster, and reached out to grab Richie, who was closest to him. He dragged him out, Teresa following closely as Alva shook some answers out from Jessie.
Hearing what happened, Junior shoved Richie forward, pushing Teresa to follow him, keeping them both in sight. He looked back down at the dead whore at his feet, hearing how she’d suddenly turned on them–how the three managed to kill her. He looked at the three, who looked entirely exhausted, and shook his head in disgust.
Alva looked back at him, obviously as puzzled as they as to how Angel had suddenly grown demonic. Possessed. For a moment, he looked at a lost for what to do.
Then, blinking, he looked over at Teresa. “Is that the truth of it?” he demanded.
She nodded solemnly. “Yes. We wouldn’t just kill her, sir. She attacked us.”
“She wasn’t herself,” Richie added quietly. He was rubbing at bite marks on his forearms, looking a little dazed. “She spoke like a man, at times.”
Alva looked at Junior, who shrugged, unsure of what to do, or think. The older man looked back at the three, who looked dead on their feet. He gave a look of disgust, glancing at Junior, signaling them. “Get them cleaned an’ bandaged up. Lock ‘em in a room closer to ours. Get those pieces of shit that were supposed to stand guard down here. Why didn’t they hear anythin’?”
“Dad, they–!”
“Now, Junior! Git them fixed up! Can’t have them rotting on us.” With a disgusted look at his son, Alva turned, marching for the front. “An’ get that body out of here! Drag it someplace where it won’t come back!”
Junior ground his teeth, all his muscles tensed, irritation shooting off of him in waves. He looked at the three, noting their injuries and exhaustion. With heavy annoyance, he growled, waving a hand, “Let’s go. Upstairs. Get that shit looked at.”
“I have to use the bathroom,” Jessie muttered, not moving.
“Ain’t no one goin’ anywhere ‘til ya’ll’s fixed!”
“We ain’t bleeding to death!” Teresa snapped, facing him. “We need to relieve ourselves!”
Fiercely irritated that they were back talking him, Junior turned to face them, feeling his face warm as he eyed them evenly. “Either you git to listenin’, or git punished. Ya’ll want that? Ya’ll want’cher stupid asses kicked? I kin get some friends rounded up and–! What are you doing?!”
He ended in a shriek as Jessie pulled up her skirts, squatted, and began to pee on the floor. Teresa snickered, and Richie looked away, embarrassed as Jessie gave a relieved sigh. Junior, at a loss of what to do, flung his arms out with reaction.
“I had to pee!” Jessie shouted at him. “You wouldn’t let me pee!”
Growling low, Junior bellowed for Casey. The cowboy, accompanied by others, hurried down the stairway, looking at Jessie in stunned reaction. The woman gave a low purr, straightened, and stepped over the wide puddle she’d made before lowering her skirts.
She gave them all a sweet smile. “Anyone up for a golden shower?”
Junior smacked her across the face, shoving her toward the nearest cowboy. “Git her upstairs, lock her in Spec’s room. Someone, get those other two outside, ‘fore they start marking up the place like that cunt did! Casey, you an’ me gotta git rid of this body, quick.”
“What happened–?”
“Let’s just get goin’! Answer that later! Someone, get them to the bathroom!” Junior then shouted in exasperation when no one moved.
Trapper herded both Richie and Teresa outside with wary looks cast at Angel’s body. Casey reluctantly stood over the corpse with a wrinkled nose, Junior casting the puddle an annoyed look.