Home… to pick a fight… with a Killer

By

Granville Johnson

Part Three

“Whore…yes, doctor…yes, fighter…no fucking way.” Frank snickered, as he looked down on Marla’s limp form, face up and spread-eagled, each limb tied three quarters the distance up each post of the king sized four-poster bed. He had sealed her mouth with duck tape and left her sweater and panties on; her legs were bare. Her head rested on the sheets while her body hung suspended about an inch or two above the surface. The bindings cut painfully into her wrists and ankles, cutting off circulation; in Marla’s dull subconscious, they were already beginning to ache.

The sucker punch was a variation of the old playing possum trick to get your enemy to drop his guard long and come close enough to bury him. She of course, being a doctor and so concerned with the emergency treatment of the wounded and dying, fell for it. The truth about what happened here and with her boyfriend earlier would not get past these walls and her body; if it would ever be found, when he was through with it.

It was payback. He had plans and he wanted her conscious to enjoy them.

Their bedroom was professionally sound proofed, something that they had done to protect their privacy back when their joyful noise floated as freely as their love lusted for each other.

In resent years the expensive baffling had only masked the deafening silence interrupted by the screaming roars of Frank’s vicious cursing determined to overwhelm the cold calculated indifference of Marla’s rebuttal.

“Okay, bitch…payback starts now.” Frank picked up the pitcher of ice water that he had found on the kitchen counter and emptied on her upturned face.

“UUUURGH…” Marla screamed against the tape. Her green eyes were immediately wide-awake, plate-sized saucers blazing hatred and rage. She strained against the ropes, twisting, tugging, back and forth, pulling for all she was worth.

Frank slowly unzipped his fly and began gently stroking his stiffening penis, sardonic expression enjoying her helplessness. “Oh yes, you are one dead bitch, as I promised. But I decided to have my fun before your cunt is cold rather than after. Heard you Nigga bitches like it rough, anyway so this should be great fun for both of us. What say you? Never mind, I’m the only one that matters here. You’re just a dead piece of Nigga meat that hasn’t stop twitching yet. But you will and when you do, I know just where to dump the remains. Maybe then and there you can join your faggot in Hell.”

Roughly grasping her sweater at the base he began to cut, then tossed the scissors across the room. Taking the severed ends of the sweater in both hands he ripped it up to the collar. Grabbing the t-shirt at the collar he ripped downward shredding the shirt and leaving vicious welts on her shoulders. Clutching her exposed breasts, “Whore, you never did fancy a bra; did you? Use to always like to let these babies swing free for your big daddy to enjoy. Remember…”

“AAAH…”

“Come to poppa.”

Frank brutally groped her breasts, while viciously raping her vagina and anus; stopping only when he could no longer maintain an erection.

Marla had ceased crying after the first assault, refusing to give the monster the satisfaction of her pleading. Instead she willed her body to respond, to fake pleasure in the pain, no matter what he did to her or in her.

“Like that don’t cha bitch. I knew; I knew it! Maybe that was my mistake. I should’ve been showing you whose boss a long time ago. Goddamn…this is so fucking …GOOD!”

In her silence he continued to beat and abuse her. She prayed that he would not kill her as long as she pleased him. Earlier her fleeting hope of rescue quickly disappeared, realizing that the deputy was gone or asleep at the wheel. Either way she was on her own to placate Frank’s sick desires until she could somehow get free.

“Alright, playtime’s over. I have to say, the best was definitely saved for the last. Too bad we could not have this kind of fun earlier, maybe I wouldn’t have to do what I have to do now.”

Frank retrieved his handcuffs from his pants and his spare pair from his bureau drawer. Cutting her left wrist loose he cuffed it to her right ankle, before cutting that rope. He then repeated the process with her right wrist and left ankle. Marla lay on the bed, gagged, naked, hog-tied and bleeding from numerous welts, cuts and bite marks.

Frank left her there while he cleaned up and put on a fresh uniform. He then went about the bedroom and den hurriedly straightening and resetting the rooms, careful to let the normal clutter remain. Thus he missed the camera and the cell phone. When he finished he turned to his trussed captive.

Laying a set of fresh clothes: shirt, jeans and socks next to her on the bed, he removed one set of handcuffs allowing her to awkwardly, partially dress before replacing them, to remove the second set so she could finish the job before replacing that set. While she worked, he idly molested her breasts, as if they were his personal set of worry beads.

Frank was hard again and thought of having her once more, but decided against it. His window of opportunity for disposing of her and the evidence was limited and he would be expected at work soon to deal with last night’s mess. He needed the alibi that work would provide. Besides that sweet little tenth grade dealer was always good for a blowjob to avoid a shake down or bust after school. He’ll just have to pay her a visit. It’s been a couple of weeks since the last time; she’s due.

“Bitch, you are not dead yet; in your position that means there is still hope somehow of rescue; one sound, one wrong wiggle and I swear you will be.”

Hefting Marla up from the bed, he carried her out to the morning sunshine of what he was sure would be the last day of her life.

Frank put the silent bundle in the cage that lined back of his Jeep. Marla laid on the floor and prayed through her bitter tears of impotency.

The road to Dead Man’s Curve was something the sheriff could and often would do in that half-aware detached state of consciousness allowing his mind to wander far and wide to more pressing matters. He glanced at the clock, it was almost time for that first period spare that his young dealer regularly used to toke-up with a couple of her shapely girl friends, one of them being the reverend’s top-heavy daughter, in the barn on the other side of the hay field behind the school. Maybe he would drop in for a real treat, a little teen group-grope and a new source of fun-n-games. The standard triple threat of exposure, criminal record and jail time etc., combined with an grudging acceptance of a ‘one-time-only special favour’ to avoid those consequences, should do the trick just fine.

The Jeep flashed by Brad’s snoozing head against the driver-side window with its characteristic duel-tail-pipe roar as Frank shifted into overdrive and picked up speed. Wanting to quickly drop this load and make his fantasized rendezvous with his intended prey, the sheriff, four-wheel drifted the jeep toward the blacktop’s edge. The big over-sided tires bit into the coarse gravel, souvenir of the winter’s sanding operations, as it sped around the curve and disappeared.

The Jeep’s exhaust roar was a whisper on the wind when a pea-sized pebble, riding that wind, ended its brief freedom-in-flight defiance of gravity to collide with the deputy’s sun-drenched windshield. Its passing was announced sharply and left an ever-so-small pit in the glass that would spread its legacy across the unknown universe of Marla’s dwindling lifetime: Wake up, take notice, I, pebble, came this way.

Brad, the deputy stirred.

Marla was painfully bounced around the back of the speeding Jeep like a pea in a mariachi pod. Each bruise cried in agony as her mind worked feverishly on a means of escaping her imminent destiny. She understood, finally, that he was probably planning to drown her at the curve“…then and there maybe you can join your faggot in Hell.” He would have to take the cuffs off before dumping her because their presence would be a death warrant for him. He also would have to drown her, rather than the simpler alternative of killing and dumping, in order that there be water in her lungs if…when her body is found.

Certain of his arrogance that never failed to do all his thinking for him, she formed a plan that would probably be her last stand.

The Jeep screeched to a hard stop.

Marla waited.

Frank flung open the tailgate and drug Marla’s whimpering form roughly along the floorboard and out of the cage. As he made his way down the slope from the pull off. Marla cried harder and louder through the tape. When he yanked the tape off after laying her down in the deep shadow of the bridge’s underbelly, she screamed in earnest pain.

“Frank…please don’t do this. I’ll do anything you want…anything Frank. I’ll suck you off…right here Frank; right here…right now…under the bridge…you can fuck my tits…my ass…anything Frank…PLEASE! Listen to me baby…anything you want as long as you want. I’ll be quiet, Frank…no one will know…”

“Yeah right…until I’m asleep and you’re not tied…”

“I’m sorry Frank…please…anything you want…Frank I have d…d…drugs at my office that can get anyone high and not remember a thing. Date rape drugs Frank…I’ll help you get any girl you want…I’ll help you fuck her and you can watch…no one will ever know… Frank…”

“Date rape drugs?”

“Yes baby…”

“A blow job?”

“Right here, right now…”

“Bitch if you’re lyin’ your dyin’ right here, right now.” Frank released one set of handcuffs, partially rolling her onto her belly then releasing the other.

Marla had to turn her head sharply to the side in order to continue to breathe during the process. She felt her pain only added to his sadistic pleasure; the more she hurt the more better he felt. Her suffering was cause to forestall her murder; yet death, hers or his was her only avenue of escape. She silently vowed that if a watery death was to be her fate, she was determined to take him along for the ride.

Pressing her into the sand with one knee in the center of her back, he wasn’t taking any chances, as he cuffed her ankles together and her wrist together behind her back. Pulling by the collar and breast, he rolled her over and pulled her to her knees at the waterline.

Marla felt the frigid current pulling at her feet. The cuffs quickly took on the water temperature and began to numb the area. Head down she noted her position relative to the river edge and the bridge while scanning the ground for anything that could be used as a weapon.

Frank readied himself, pausing briefly to listen for traffic on the bridge above. He thought he had heard a car engine, he strained his hearing yet the distant sound seemed to have disappeared, “Probably leaving the driveway in the other direction toward the bypass.” Thought Frank. It was still too early for the local commuter traffic that usually preferred the newer four-lane highway. The residential commuters that lived on this road and used it were few in number, indeed. Satisfied he was relatively free of being disturbed or interrupted, he filled his big fist with her tight curls and yanked her head up to face him.

“What’s this? Your face is all wet and dirty. Let me wash it off for you. I don’t have a pitcher of ice water handy but I think this will do.” Frank peed in Marla’s face, starting at her forehead and fanning downward over her closed eyes to her cheeks, mouth, chin, neck and breasts. “There now no more sand, nice and clean. I should dry you off though. I’d be rude of me not to take good care of my guest.” Using his still flaccid penis, he wiped her face in the same pattern till it slowly stiffened to full erection, bobbing directly in front of her eyes. “Open your eyes. What do you say?”

“Thank you Frank.”

“Thank you Master.”

“Thank you…Master.”

“Say it to my cock; that’s your new master.”

“Thank you Master…Cock.”

“ Good…you’re catching on fast to the new order. I may have to keep you around after all. Well I guess it’s time to clean off Master Cock; he worked hard last night. He needs a warm bath real bad. Open Wide…whore.”

Marla relaxed her clenched jaw muscles as Frank pressed his bulbous head to her lips; opening slowly she allowed him in and fought hard against her ragged reflex to gag at the invasion.

Pressing hard Frank began to slide in and out over her tongue, going slightly deeper with each thrust. The growing heat of sadistic pleasure consumed him. Involuntarily closing his eyes, oblivious to all around him, he began to rock at the hip.

Marla watched and waited, her head bobbing in counterpoint to his quickening thrusts.

“Yes! That’s it bitch.” Frank cried through clenched teeth and eyes. I’m cumm…”

“AAAAAH…’ Frank screamed in horror as Marla bit down on the base of his swelling penis with all her jaw power. In the same motion she toppled backward assisted by Franks hard forward hip thrust. Off balance and in excruciating pain he toppled forward into the rushing current.

Marla, gnawing grinding in a bloody sawing action, did not let go her grip. The gore of severed flesh began to fill her mouth, choking. The water’s chill burned her eyes yet she refused to close them even to escape Frank’s kicking knees and hammering fists.

The barrage of blows about her head, face chest and shoulders, blunted somewhat by the waters resistance and interference, only increased the tearing effect of Marla’s sawing incisors.

Yet Frank’s blind pain and fury only grew in rabid determination to kill his tormentor.

Carried by the current the death duelers rolled over each other, but only Frank had a fleeting opportunity to breathe.

Marla began to loose consciousness; she continued gnawing, her teeth now close to meeting; her mouth filled with blood, water and urine. She swallowed what she could not release through the sides of her mouth. She never relaxed her grip.

Reaching the dead tree trunk spanning the river, Frank’s right chest wall collided with the sharp spear-like jagged point of a protruding branch that wedged itself between his ribs, puncturing his lung and skewering Frank against the deadfall tree. Screaming at the new pain, he grabbed the branch with his right hand and reached for Marla’s head with the left. Mindless with rage, pain and fear, throwing his head back in a primal roar, Frank pulled with all his remaining might and felt what was left of his manhood rip away with his grip on sanity and consciousness.

He never felt or heard the bullet that entered his left lobe above and behind his ear and exited through his right eye socket bursting and searing his collapsed vision with its passing.

At same instant that Frank became a grisly ornament skewered by his “hanging tree”, Marla felt rocks beneath her feet. Frank once more had her hair and began to pull hard ripping her scalp. In sync with that pressure, she kicked hard against the rocks beneath her, wrenching her gore filled mouth away while still holding what once was his penis. Her jaw muscles, in spasm, were locked shut. She too never heard the shot or saw its result. The river’s undertow sucked her back into its merciless rhythm before she could catch air. The darkness closed.

A strong hand grasped the hard cuffs around her ankles, as she was momentarily delayed in her pell-mell tumble downriver by Frank’s dangling body. Vaguely she felt herself being pulled without the strength to resist further, she thought, “Why can’t this fucking monster die!?”

Brad was thankful for his long arms and the length of the crime scene tape still strung between the tree and the bridge railing, as a result of last night’s investigation. No doubt that it will now be of use again. He pulled Doc’s limp form up onto the sand above the rocks, laid her on her side, head down slope and examined her for life signs.

Marla coughed and vomited again and again in uncontrollable spasms and contractions as her stomach rejected the blood, gore, water and urine it had been forced to inhale and swallow.

Brad saw the nature of her stomach’s contents and went over to the river’s edge to lose last night’s dinner, breakfast and all in between, before he could call for an ambulance and back up.

EPILOGUE

Dr. Marla Williams, her maiden name, was on the road. Rushmore purred nicely as usual between her thighs. The wind danced over her chaps and beckoned her to chase the horizon. Belize would definitely be a nice change. A change was high on the therapist’s list of healing steps that Marla must take on her road back to health. Her body had healed relatively quickly considering the extent of her injuries that included a broken shoulder blade and ruptured spleen. The psychological and emotional damage would take longer much longer. Post Traumatic Episode Stress Syndrome could take years to recover.

The practice had been an easy sale. A bright young couple, Dr. Catherine and Dr. Melvin Andrews MD, were more than happy to take over her practice. Fresh out of residency, they were overjoyed to set up in such a quiet quaint community, complete with a beautiful newly remodeled family-sized home.

Marla sold everything except her bikes: Death Angel, his baby, which she had claimed and completely reconditioned to its immaculate glory and then shipped ahead to the Central American resort town, and Rushmore, her baby, now crooning a throaty roar. She would take her time getting there, maybe six months. It’s spring once again, heading south on the trip he started but never really began, chasing the sun, no hurry at all; it’ll be sweet summer all the way.

Her life is a Rush: a beautiful memory held close, to be lived anew.