**********AUTHOR'S NOTE AND WARNING ********* THE FOLLOWING IS MY LAST ORIGINAL CHARACTER ONLY BACKGROUND CHAPTER. HOWEVER, ALL THESE CHARACTERS DO HABITUATE KIRKLAND'S TWD WORLD - I MAKE NO MONEY OFF KIRKLAND'S WORLD IN ANY WAY AND I DO NOT PROFESS TO OWN ANY OF HIS WORLD IN ANY WAY! - THAT BEING SAID PLEASE NOTE: * THIS IS A FOLLOW UP TO THE NIGHTMARE MAN* THERE ARE SOME OBVIOUS RAPE TRIGGERS IN HERE BUT, NOTHING AS EXTREME AS THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER!*THERE ARE ALSO REFERENCES TO DRUG USE AND CHILD SLAVERY* THIS IS BACKGROUND STORY TO CREATE A VILLON ONLY AND NOT THE MAJOR FOCUS OF MY STORY AS A WHOLE. IF YOU NEED TO SKIP THE NIGHTMARE MAN AND THIS CHAPTER, THEORETICALLY YOU COULD PICK UP THE STORY AS A WHOLE WITH THE SCARRED CHILDREN RUN AND STILL FOLLOW IT, YOU'LL JUST BE A LITTLE CONFUSED ON SOME CHARACTERS REASONING FOR DOING THINGS. WITH THAT - I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!
Christmas Eve 2010
Abel Sokolov did not care for the company of Leon Fitz or any of the monsters that traveled with him. Then again, Abel did not care for most people.
He just held a special place of deep and un-abiding malice for these monsters in particular.
If it were possible Abel would have destroyed the camp much sooner. Consequences be damned. But, Abel Sokolov was married, so, like many men, Abel had come to recognize that most things were no longer up to him. He had responsibilities. Obligations. Apocalypse or not.
When he and Donetta, his wife of eighteen years, had come upon The Traders her reaction had been one of fury while his had been methodical. His calm amidst her horrification only seemed to infuriate her further. At Abel's instance, they waited, tracking the caravan for almost a full week, discussing their options, watching, waiting for an opportunity, waiting to see how the Devil did business. Donetta wanted him to move in swiftly, take out the followers, and free the children.
Donetta watched too many movies.
A fierce, small, ebony woman, she had learned English from a cache of highly prized Robert DeNiro films. When Abel found her, waiting for his boat on the shores of Haiti, he knew. Knew what? He couldn't tell you today if you asked him. Instead he would insist that he just knew. That was it. The miniscule drug courier would drastically change his life. He wasn't even supposed to go on the run but, there he was. And, then he knew. The mismatched pair was married in Vegas less than a month later. His pale hulking form in a suit that was a little too small with his slick hair a little too long. Her tiny waist drawn into an intricate corset with chocolate colored accents that set off the slightly lighter color of her cheeks. Onlookers gawked at their physical discrepancies. To the newly anointed Mr. AND Mrs. Sokolov, however, it was perfect. She wasn't legal in the US but, the family helped him move her over. Paperwork was a formality that could be worked out later.
After the dead began to walk the earth Abel moved D, as he nicknamed her, to an abandoned missile silo outside Dahlonga, GA. Cut into the foothills of the Appalachians Abel only knew of the bunker due to its storage capacity for the family. Money. Drugs. Firearms. They were safe there for a while. When they began to run low on canned goods Abel took up hunting and D got board. She went with him twice before they stumbled upon Bay. A small girl they found in early September, after an unseasonably cold night. Maybe four. The girl had almost gone feral. Her eyes wild, hair matted, and shoeless, she hissed at Abel when he caught her. Eighteen years of failed attempts to have children and Abel couldn't turn her down when D said 'please.' 'Please,' they had to help the child. Less than four days later their little hide away had been crossed by two more children. A brother and sister of sixteen. The boy was some kind of medical genius. A good asset. The girl was sweet but, now there were three additional mouths to feed.
So there was more hunting.
Farther out.
Donetta came with him, to hunt, again, that last weekend in September. Or, maybe it was the first week in November. Abel couldn't really keep track. Her reasons had been good. He'd need help to butcher in the field. Safety in numbers. The older kids could care for the feral four year old. Looking back Abel would later wish he had stopped her.
With Donetta a few paces off his left heel, about nine miles easy walk from their parked Dodge, Abel had heard the screams first. Abel knew screams. Twenty plus years with his kind of "Family," sometimes Abel had been called upon to make people scream. They screamed like that for him too. Abel's years as mid-level enforcement had scarred his soul. Irreparably. He turned away then, to walk away, before he saw what was causing those screams. He had to protect what was his and that did not include risking his' woman's life to investigate a problem that wasn't theirs. Coming face to face with his wife, in that moment, Abel was terrified. He could never figure out how such a miniature human could be so fucking scary. She flew at him, cursing in a Haitian dialect that Abel didn't understand. Abel wasn't really sure but, she may have actually been cursing him. Like old world style. Pieces falling off kind of curse. That was how Abel came to track "The Traders." Reluctantly. But, in for a penny, in for a pound.
Regardless of his wife's prodding, Abel could not escape the truth that the two of them didn't stand a chance against the small cult of well armed predators. But, after watching them for a week that fact, 'however inescapable,' didn't make him want to kill them any less. Productively, Abel did believe, after watching The Traders' transactions from a distance, that they could buy rather than attack. Probably not all of them but, one or two at a time. Save who they could. Build a "business" relationship and, hopefully, eventually, have the numbers to take out the "King," himself. It wasn't the first time Abel had worked antagonists. His years as a made man had brought him a harder edge that most. Sharper. Abel murdered nineteen men in the world before. Because he was told to. He killed gambling cheaters, turncoats, and cowards. Abel had even killed for simple revenge. Someone wronged a boss of a boss and then they called Abel. Each one of those nineteen Abel could remember. Never slept right after. They stuck with him.
This was something else. There were twenty four men, disciples, lunatics, monsters, traveling with The Traders the first time Abel found them and he wanted them all dead. This felt reasonable. This would be justice, not revenge, not an order, right. This would be right. But, in order to get in Abel would have to be patient. Work the system. Lie with snakes and demons. To Court a King Abel would walk in darkness again.
Together, Donetta and Abel decided to go for the the two smallest boys first. Close to death, Abel could tell, he knew that they would be easy for the "King" to part with. D and he made a run into Appling. She knew a 'guy' who cooked there. Or, used to. Before. They couldn't put hands on any meth but, were Abel to locate a small mountain of X. Abel hoped it would be enough. He planned to make contact the following day, when he kissed his wife goodnight. D slept in the tent to start while he took first watch outside. Abel couldn't sleep so, he never woke her up that night.
He stayed awake. Planning. Every detail was meticulously rehearsed in his mind. He could never have predicted the caravan would make a sharp easterly course change. It nearly ran the cult into the small tent Abel shared with his wife. When D awoke, that morning, it had been in the pre-dawn hours, still dark. Abel pulled her from the tent and hid her quickly. This action had saved her life. Abel heard the rustling first, then far off screams. Less than a mile. D secured herself up the nearby tree just in time to watch the man Abel would later identify as McMannis come round a bend in the road with his gun up and ready.
Abel was stripped of his firearm. Searched. His possessions tossed. When they found his story satisfactory, McMannis questioned him.
"What you doin' out here, Grandpa?" McMannis drawled around a cigarette. "Seems to me, old man like you," McMannis inhaled, "should be dead by now."
"Left my bitches back in the mountains," Abel answered gruffly. "Heard you were the folk to trade wit in these parts."
"That so?"
"That's what I heard." Abel answered firmly.
"From who?"
Abel had thought, at great length, over the last four days, about how to answer that question, if asked. "Bua," it was a guess. A shot in the dark. If he said he didn't know anybody by that name, Abel might be dead in the water.
"You say 'Buck?'"
Abel exhaled. "Yeah, ran into him a piece ago. Said, you were the folk to see about specialty items. Said, your folk had the hook up. Could get me what I needed."
McMannis nodded appearing to accept the thin explanation. "What'cha lookin' for?" McMannis asked flatly.
"Boys," Abel bet on the man being jaded by the cesspool of comrades he had chosen.
McMannis coughed violently around his cigarette. "You just put shit out there don't you old man? Damn. So, you're a fucking fag kiddie fucker. Damn." McMannis seemed to ponder this thought. "You say you got woman back where you're at? Would you ever consider leaving? We gotta couple more of you NAMBLA fucks. You might like it. We could take those women off your hands. More eyes to watch them at all times, ya know?"
Abel shook his head. "Naw Man, I like my bitches fine. Good pussy and it's just me. They're broke good. Ain't got no need to leave. Just, looking for something a little tighter. Ya feel me?"
"No," McMannis furrowed his brow and looked a little annoyed as he dropped his cigarette butt to the ground to put it out. "But, that's cause I ain't a fucking fag. What'cha got for swapping?"
Abel did his best to look nervous as he sized up the two other men with McMannis. Then, slowly, he shoved his hand under the waistband of his pants and dug in the crotch for a minute before removing the quart sized plastic baggie full of little white tabs. Abel held it up, "Ex, best around. Good shit. Pharmaceutical grade."
"He'll like that," McMannis replied giving a shrug. "You're gonna have to come with me though and meet the King. Everybody's got to meet him."
Abel had followed McMannis that night. Three quarters of a mile, straight into Hell. Watching it through binoculars was nothing like standing next to the Devil himself.
The stench. Infected wounds, feces, blood, and bile. For the first time in his life Abel prayed for the death of a child. A quick merciful death for all of these children.
Leon and Abel shared the illusion of civil discourse before Leon clapped his hands loudly and asked for his 'pet' to bring out the meat.
A nude girl of sixteen or so came forward. A ground length fur cape was tied loosely around her neck. It offered her no protection from prying eyes and Abel could easily depict a number of deep cuts on her neck, chest, and thighs in various stages of healing. A series of rings cleanly pierced the skin of her neck and, it appeared, that her chain was run through them before it had been attached to the trolley line with a carabiner.
"Fuck," the word escaped Abel as no more than a whisper. He was so entranced by the horror of this child that he almost missed Leon approaching.
"I know," Leon whispered as he looked on next to Abel. "She is marvelous." The comment came out like the admiration a man would have for a fine wine, a classic car, or a painting.
"How much?" The words were whispered, prayer like, before Abel knew he had said them.
"Uh, uh, uh," Leon chuckled, shaking his finger. "She is mine. All mine. No other has ever touched her and lived. Besides," Leon said halfheartedly pushing Abel's shoulder in a jovial display, "don't want to get too greedy now do you?"
After Leon described the boys he saw on the edge of the camp 'Pet' was sent to retrieve them. Abel handed over the Ecstasy to McMannis who gave it to Leon. Leon called for his 'Pet' again and brought her up to his camp chair to kneel.
"Open," Leon commanded.
The girl opened her mouth obediently and Leon, balancing the tab on the tip of his buck knife, placed a single hit in the girl's mouth. Pet gave a little jerk as Leon withdrew the knife. "Tire her off in my coach," Leon commanded. McMannis appeared again, unwound the carabiner and chain, and took 'Pet' towards a coach to the left. 'Pet' turned her head slightly to look at Abel and the boys as she passed. She had protected the boys best she could. God only knew what horrors awaited them now….but, there was something she couldn't escape. He didn't seem like the other traders. He talked a game but, he was different. Damaged in a different way. It was subtle.
As she left and Abel met her eyes he could see a tiny drop of blood escaping from her lips. Fucker had cut her. Purposefully. Abel felt bile threaten the back of his throat.
Eight weeks later Abel was ready to trade again. New story. He would tell the traders the boys had died and he needed more.
In reality, Peter and Thomas, eleven and twelve respectively, had adjusted quickly. Resilient boy scouts, Abel had been startled at how easily they adapted at the silo. They had nightmares but, they seemed to comfort each other. D wouldn't let them go a slim minute without eating. She followed them around with bread and venison mothering them incessantly. The entire family was growing. Both in health and resolve.
The darker side was handled by Abel himself. The boys' firearm training was easy. They were eager to learn. A little too eager to kill. Marion, one of the sixteen year old twins, was good with a knife. Her brother, Marius, had little interest in combat. His medical skills however, were astounding for a boy of only sixteen. Marion explained that his autism leant itself to the title of sevant. They had been granted early admittance to Harvard Medical specifically to study pathology. Abel wasn't altogether that sure how useful pathology would be but, a steady hand for stitching was a valuable asset.
As a group, they studied hunting, tracking, and, utilizing a store mannequin, lethal stabbing injuries, knife fighting, and target practice.
It was just the day before Christmas Eve that Abel told Donetta he had to go again.
"I have to try for older boys," Abel explained weakly. "We will need larger, stronger, boys if we are going to survive this when we take their caravan. As it is now it could be years before Peter or Thomas are ready."
D wiped her hands on her apron turning to a cabinet where they kept canned goods the pulled down a stool so she could reach behind the canned peaches on the top shelf. She withdrew two bottles of Ketamine and placed them into Abel's startled hands. "Found it on a run with the girl," she said smiling as she held on to her husband's hand with the bottles. "I figured that it was something," she paused flinching just a little, "something he would like."
Abel just nodded.
"You know I'm coming with you."
Abel shook his head, "We've got to many here now woman. You'll have to stay in case,"
She cut him off "In case what, Husband? In case you don't come back? We're dead anyway if you don't. So, I'm coming with you to make sure you do." Her smile was soft but, final.
Abel brushed a stray black hair away from her forehead. "You will stay put at the truck when I go in. Won't have him seein' ya."
Donetta smiled nodding, "So Jealous you are Husband."
Abel kissed her softly. Chaste. A momentary peck between longtime comfortable lovers. He wouldn't realize it until later, while looking back but, this would be last kiss he gave his wife for quite some time.
That night they headed out. Didn't usually travel at night but, the boys and Abel had constructed a light rig with bright spot lights and studded and chained tires. The S-10 bounced over obstacles quite nicely and the tires ground up any walkers they ran over. It took less than ten hours before Abel ID'ed one of Leon's patrols from afar.
He parked the small truck under some brush with Donetta inside and walked in to make contact.
Cain, a slick Abercrombie and Fitch model type, put him through the same paces McMannis had only two months before. When Abel mentioned his previous trade, Cain's demeanor brightened, "You're the fag kiddie fucker that brought the Ex?"
Abel nodded.
"That was good shit. You got more?"
"I'm pretty sure that was a one time deal," Abel said shaking his head. "But, I've got better." Abel held up the bottle of clear liquid K.
"That what I think it is," Cain asked brightly.
"Well it ain't bottled water Son," Abel answered drolly.
"He'll trade for that," Cain said nodding his head enthusiastically. "Tomorrow, come on into the camp." Cain pointed up a nearby crest in the horizon. "I'll tell him you're coming. You want more boys? We got boys."
"Older," Abel groaned. "The last ones were a little," Abel seemed to think for a while trying to come up with the perfect adjective, "fragile."
Cain thought this was immensely funny. "Fragile," he guffawed. "You're good old man!"
Abel crawled into the cab with D when he was sure they were alone. He slept fitfully. The image of 'Pet' dancing in his unconscious mind.
The following morning Abel slipped out. He rustled D only slightly to tell her that he had gone. Then he took both bottles of Ketamine and left to the find the Devil for the second time.
Leon was nothing if not a man of repetitively grand gestures. Abel noticed a new and pronounced limp in his walk when he came forward. He seemed to sit more gingerly.
Again 'Pet' brought forward his purchases. This time however, both the boys and 'Pet' looked a little worse for wear. She was sporting a fresh black eye and her lip was split. This time Abel hadn't seen the boys in advance and was pleased to see that both the boys were old enough but, in horror he realized that, both boys had been carved on. One adorned with a number one and the other with a number two. Number one was missing two toes and had dried blood around his mouth. His tongue appeared obscenely swollen.
"What's wrong with this one?" Abel asked pointing at number one.
"He's a willful fuck is what's wrong with him," Leon spat. "Want's to talk about the great serpent, so I gave him a fucking serpent's tongue."
"He do that to you?" Abel asked, gesturing to Leon's leg.
Leon looked in his lap apparently trying to identify to what Abel was referring. "Lot of things happened since I saw you last," Leon growled. Looking up to meet Abel's gaze. The intensity in his eyes gave Abel pause. "You still want the girl?" It was a whispered dare and Abel wasn't sure what to do with it.
"Yeah," Abel breathed.
"Then you have to bring me something I want." Leon husked the phrase.
Abel raised an eyebrow.
"I want a willing Queen." It was a statement rather than a request.
Abel didn't know what to say. So he said nothing. Reaching forward to retrieve his purchases from 'Pet' he was startled to find that the girl was not only holding the boy's chains but, the tips of their fingers were touching hers on either side. To take the chains Abel put his hands over where their fingers touched joining all four of them in silent understanding. He looked into Pet's eyes as he spoke to Leon. "I'll see what I can do."
Pet loosed the chains and Abel took a few steps backwards before turning, with the boys, and disappearing into the woods.
Abel made it over the ridge, out of sight, before he turned to the boys. Both nude, they wore only hand ankle shackles. Their necks had been looped into the equation with smooth dog choke chains that tightened every time they let their hands drop past a certain point. For all intensive purposes they looked worse for wear that Thomas and Peter had. Beaten worse. The younger boys had been starved but, these boys, looked mutilated, starved, and shattered? Abel couldn't think of an appropriately strong adjective.
"I understand," Abel started, "that I will never understand what you've been through." The boys stared at the ground, mute. "The other two, from before, are alive."
Number two's eyes raised hesitantly.
"It really is all my wife's fault. She saw them," Abel jerked his head back toward the camp they had left, "and she," Abel paused. "Well, she tends to get her way."
Number two spoke, "We are for her?"
"NO," Abel barked. The boys both visibly flinched. Abel brought his volume down, "Shit, no boy. You aren't for anybody. Cept you're own self. But, we do ask that you come back with us. Get your strength up. Give my wife a chance to fuss over you. Then, if you're wantin' to, you can set out on your own. I'd like you to stay though. We are planning to, eventually, go after that monster. I know Peter and Thomas are in on it and we've got others."
Both boys remained silent.
"You don't have to decide now," Abel said softly. "I am to remove your chains, if that's okay. I'd really like some sort of recognition that you're not going to jump me while I'm working at your shackles. The last ones were awful rusty and it took more than the handcuff key." Abel lifted a long master cuff key from his pocket to show the boys his intention. While he waited for a response he noticed the neck chains were different. "Those," Abel pointed at the dog chains, "I'm gonna have to take off at the truck though. I've got bolt cutters." Still there was no response from either boy. Abel took a chance and reached out. He gently took two's cuffs in his hands and fed the tiny metal key into the lock. The cuff came off with a metal tick tick ticking sound. Slowly, Abel did the other side. No reaction from the boy. Being close to fifty, or maybe he already was, the year was going quickly, Abel didn't want to get on and off the ground multiple times so he reached slowly for one's hands.
One jerked his hands back, fists balled.
"S'okay boy," Abel said softly. "You want me to finish up with your brother first?"
Millimeter by Millimeter One looked up into Abel's eyes. Tears swum at the surface and Abel felt sick that they boy was so frightened, still. Sick but, he understood. One slowly extended his right hand palm up, and opened his fist. With an educated guess Abel gently placed the handcuff key into the boy's outstretched hand.
Suddenly, moving with an unexpected speed, One dropped to the ground and unlocked his brother's shackles. He then stood and removed his own cuffs. When he stooped again for his shackles he seemed to have trouble. Abel mutely waited.
After an additional two minutes it was obvious that One would not get his shackles undone. He stood, trembling slightly, and handed the key back to Abel.
"S'okay boy," Abel said reassuringly, "I've got tools and stuff at the truck. Little WD-40 them will pop right off." He gave the boy a smile.
Two reached out and put a hand on Abel's shoulder gently urging him to move out of the way. The boys met eyes for a moment before Two swept his brother's naked form into his arms. He took a moment to steady the load and then he motioned for Abel to lead the way.
Abel continued to the truck, keeping a slow pace, being mindful of the boys all the way. As he walked he filled the unsteady silence with the same question he had asked Thomas and Peter at this point of their emancipation.
"I feel kinda stupid calling you both boy," the hardened ex-enforcer admitted. "What do you say you tell me your names? Would that be okay? You don't have to tell me you're real names if you don't want to. Just something I can call you instead of boy."
There was a pause and then Abel heard the unsteady voice of Two, "My Mother called me Gabriel. My brother, he don't talk so good anymore."
An unsteady and decidedly annoyed grunt came from one.
Gabriel continued, "My brother's name is Michael. Don't call him Mike, he hates that." Abel gave a chuckle at the assertion of personal name preference in the midst of their ordeal. "Peter and Thomas," Gabriel started, "are those the boys, from before?"
"Yes, Son." Abel answered succinctly.
"And, they're okay?" Gabriel seemed to need to confirm it again.
"Yes." The feminine voice was thick with an accent that melodious to Abel. "They both grow like rats, fat on cheese," Donetta continued as she hopped off the tailgate of the S-10.
Both boys seemed slightly drawn back. They had, in truth been expecting something horrible to happen. But, now, a tiny black woman that sounded like she was from South America was telling them that the boys that had only just heard were dead were, in fact, living well. The absurdity of the situation was almost too much.
Neither boy made any effort themselves in front of this woman. They had been through too much in the last three months. Their nudity seemed…..inconsequential.
Donetta approached Abel and boys clucking her tongue disapprovingly. "I told you, stubborn husband, that you should have carried coats at least. They look frozen."
"They are frozen, woman. Quit your picking and get them some clothes. Also, my bolt cutters, if you don't mind."
Donetta busied herself under the truck topper before coming out with two pairs of jeans they had scavenged from a DAV on the way there. "28X34?" She posed it as a question.
"I wouldn't even know anymore," Gabriel breathed honestly.
Donetta gave a half smile, "Well then, Gabriel, why don't you put your brother down here on the tailgate and you can try them on." Donetta patted the tailgate to show him where to set Michael. Gabriel complied and, while he fought with the jeans, Donetta pulled a large fleece blanket from the truck bed. "This, Michael, is for you. At least until we get rid of those things," she said pointing to his ankles.
Gabriel had succeeded in getting the jeans on only to have them fall to his ankles almost immediatly. "No problems young man," Donetta declared brightly. "We have belts." Donetta tossed him a black belt followed by two T-shirts and a large LSU sweatshirt. When he had finally succeeded in layering until his was warm, for the first time in months, Donetta stepped back to admire the ensemble. Gabriel looked like a cancer patient. His cheeks were sallow, eyes sunken, skin dry, cut, and cracked in multiple places. She sighed. It would have to do for now. Abel was working on Michael's shackles and, after she had removed a pair of too large boots for Gabriel to cover his feet, Donetta turned her attention back to Michael. While Abel fussed over the second chain connection, Donetta leaned in to, at least, get Michael started with a sweatshirt (or ten). As she pushed into the truck next to him, Michael began to sob uncontrollably.
"No, no, no," Donetta cooed. Abel snapped the second chain joint and stood quickly, thinking that perhaps it was his proximity to the boy that had set him off. "Don't cry," Donetta climbed onto the gate next to him and pulled his head flush to her chest, "We will not be hurting you. Didn't Abel explain?" Donetta shot her husband an evil look as Abel backed away from the truck. In his haste, he almost fell over Gabriel who had kneeled next his brother's feet softly resting his head on them, in comfort, as his brother sobbed.
Donetta continued to softly murmur comfort to the boy. Abruptly the first sound, other than sobbing, that Abel had ever heard come from Michael, escaped his lips. "Pate," Michael blubbered. His mouth hadn't worked correctly since the night the Devil had "fixed it" with a pair of hedge clippers.
Donetta shook her head and looked towards Abel for explanation as Gabriel quietly joined his brother in tears. Abel knew, he should have said something, but, he feigned ignorance. This kind of information and his wife was libel to do something, rash.
Gabriel's trembling voice found its way to the truck bed. "Pet," he said.
"You are missing a pet?" Donetta asked. "This is why you are crying?"
"A girl," Gabriel offered, looking toward Abel, "named pet."
"What kind of name is this?" Donetta asked her husband for clarification.
"She was supposed to be his Queen, his slave." Abel sighed as he spoke. "But, I don't know, it wasn't like last time. Last time was horrible enough but, this time…. I think she did something he didn't like. She had bruises. He's not a guy that bruises people D. He cuts. This wasn't his sick fuck mind though. I think he was mad at her."
Gabriel's sobs seemed to increase more at this explanation. Abel looked down, utterly helpless to console the boy.
"Why is it that you did buy this girl as well?"
Abel took a deep breath. "Too much," he said simply. "He wanted too much. He wanted something I did not have."
Donetta gave him a quizzical look.
It was Gabriel, however, that answered her question. "He want's a replacement," he choked out. "He wants a different girl. Because of me because of us."
Now Abel was, genuinely, just as confused as D.
"She bit him," Gabriel croaked. "She heard him telling one of the others that he planned to cut us, before sale."
Abel felt like he might throw up.
Donetta looked to her husband for clarification, "What does this mean?"
"Like bulls," Abel breathed.
"She came to us to tell us," Gabriel continued. "So, we would be ready to fight. When he came for us she threw herself at him. She'd been banking on you," Gabriel looked up to Abel, "coming today. To buy. She knew she just had to preoccupied. So, she asked him to take her in front of us. To show us what a 'real man' was. She bit him." Gabriel looked off into the distance.
"His dick?" Abel asked for clarification. Not like it mattered. He just wanted to know as his admiration had grown twenty fold for the girl in the last twenty seconds.
"Naw," Gabriel whispered, "took his right nut though."
Abel nodded. 'Good' he thought. 'Fucking good.'
Abel starred his wife down, now. "We need to get these boys back. I'm sorry," he said firmly turning to both boys. "There's nothing we can do for her. I wont trade slaves. I may be southern and have white hair but, I'm not that old. We'll figure it out. We'll come back for her." Abel tried to sound reassuring but, he knew, in reality the girl didn't have another eight weeks. She might not have another eight hours. The madman had lost his fascination with her.
"No," Donetta said softly, "You are tired husband, and so are these boys. We will return to our home in the morning." Donetta placed a pair of canvas pants in Michael's lap. "I've got food in the cab Son," she said warmly trying to change the subject. "You two can curl up with Abel tonight in the back. I will sleep in the cab."
As the boys finished their meager feast of venison and saltines, they guzzled water by the gallon, Donetta pulled out blankets and made a pallet in the back. "You sleep here tonight boys," she said pointing. "Abel will be with you. The topper locks so, no dead persons will be climbing in next to you."
Once the boys were curled together in the back Abel took a long look at his wife. She didn't seem right. The news regarding the slave girl should have enraged her. She should have thrown a fit that he didn't bring her back. Cursed him, hit him, at the very least taken an angry 'timeout' in the cab but, she did none of these things. Maybe this was getting to be to much for her. Abel sighed, pressing a long kiss to her forehead. "Love you woman," he husked.
"And, I love you, Husband," she replied.
Once the boys and Abel were safely shut in the closed truck bed with the topper shutters securely fastened, Donetta watched through the small windows until they slept. Then, ever so slowly, she laid her shotgun against the back bumper and walked toward the fires of the caravan over the crest.
This is how Donetta Sokolov, drug courier, Russian mafia bride, wife, and mother, walked over a hill and into Hell. She met the Devil first hand that night. Struck her own faustian deal. The memories that would keep her warm in the following years were those of her husband, her children, and the beautiful daughter whose name she never knew. When the whip cracked in the upcoming endless 'sessions' Donetta would take comfort in those memories and the knowledge that she walked into Hell with her head held high, shoulders back, and when she looked the Devil in the eye, he flinched.
The following morning the roar of Abel Sokolov could be heard throughout the forest when he awoke to find the unconscious body of Rebecca Townsand chained to the steering wheel of his truck. The caravan campfires were cold and their tracks headed south. Donetta had to know the children would take precedence in his mind. She would have known that he couldn't track her and get them to safety. After he had seen the fire ash but, before he got back to the truck, Abel stopped next to a tree that had been blackened by lightning. And, in the privacy of that silent companion, Abel Sokolov, the "Russian Raptor," the killer of men, the enforcer for the family, sobbed like an eight-year old boy.
Whew- that was a long one guys! Hope you liked it and I'll post again sometime this weekend with "The Scarred Children Run." That will get us back to Daryl and my beauteous Heroine Carol! Catch you guys this weekend and, as always,
Cheers and Happy Writing!