Just Misunderstood
By: TheSilverHyena
Warning:: Contains Mature/Adult Content, Violence and Gore, and Adult Language. If you cannot HANLDE these sorts of things, you might want to go elsewhere. Don't say I didn't warn you.
Chapter 16: Devious
Large, meaty hands pawed at the sheets and blankets of the bed. A low, panicked whimper escaped Thomas' throat and his breathing became labored up until he felt the small curve of Blake's hip beneath the covers. He leaned in, inhaling the girl's familiar scent and exhaled a sigh of relief. It was just a vivid dream! That was all. Tenderly, Thomas ran his hand down Blake's body, though she nearly felt as cold as he did just a little bit ago.
With a soft moan, the girl stirred from her sleep groggily, rolling over to peer at the titan-sized man with half-closed eyes, "Thomas?" she asked, tiredly, "W-what's wrong?"
'Afraid...' was Thomas' equally tired response.
"I-I was having a d-dream... a-about... m-my childhood. D-did y-you-?"
Before she could say anything more, Blake fell back asleep, the chain tethered to her wrists lightly 'clinking' as she shifted to make herself more comfortable. Unwilling to take anymore chances, Thomas nestled back down into bed, putting an arm around the much smaller female in order to hold her close to him. If he held onto her, there was no way she'd be able to just vanish in the middle of the night. Could she? But what bothered him more then anything... how was it possible for he and Blake to have the exact same dream?
Lightly, Thomas stroked Blake's arm, feeling where that long scar was. Now he knew where she had gotten it from. Those horrible, cruel people! No wonder she was so afraid of them. He had to protect her, he would do whatever necessary to keep the girl and their baby safe. It took about an hour of watching over the girl before Thomas was finally able to return to sleep. Luckily, the rest of the night was blissfully dreamless, for which he was very thankful.
*Lee Bros. Meats/Abandoned Slaughterhouse, Travis County*
A dreary, desolate, not to mention disgusting place. Once filled to the brim with death, now only the sad remnants of a once successful meatpacking plant remained. In other words, it served as the perfect "meeting hall" for the Soldiers of Eternal Damnation. Empty, rusting corrals were slowly decaying outside of the walls, while on the inside, the long unused equipment had been pushed off the the side to make room for their nightly demonic rituals. Every so often, some poor sap they brought to the plant met a cruel, violent, and horrific end when sacrificial knives were deemed too boring and the meat grinders or bone saws were instead implemented. Grime, dirt, and blood covered just about every inch of the floor. While the power was spotty at best, it was sparingly used as to not give away their position. They wanted the place to remain looking abandoned.
From the second story office overlooking the main work area, Lucian observed his new domain out of the dirty windows. In his hands, he held an old meat clever which had a thick coating of long dried cattle blood and rotted bits of flesh on it. But... the cult leader was not alone.
"Hewitts, did you say?" Lucian questioned, glancing over his shoulder at the state patrolman standing right behind him, "How many?"
"Three that I saw, my lord. One old lady, an old man stuck in a wheelchair, and some buffoon who thinks he's fooling everyone he meets by calling himself the Sheriff of Travis County." Axle answered, with an amused snort, "It's a big house, a lot of land, large barn... plenty of places to hide bodies, living or dead... police cruiser... And them folks, well I could tell they was hiding something."
Upon hearing his, a wicked smirk crept across Lucian's face. "A Great Evil", hiding in plain sight? This could very well be it! What they had been looking for all along... and the reason Darius Gordon never came back! Many of his scouts, posing as tourists and troublemakers often reported a police cruiser on the lonely roads, the same one, the same driver and passenger, every time. Every so often, there would be one to four others crammed into the backseat, but those sightings were fewer and fewer since the supply of bodies was steadily being choked off, as The Damnation was making claim to the victims first.
"People going missing around these parts is nothing new. Keep up picking off the travelers and vagrants that cut through Travis County. Eventually, it will flush them out into the open." Lucian ordered, "Then we will know for sure."
"There's... something else, your lordship," Axle interjected, "When I was at that house, talking with those three, I thought I heard a voice whisper in my ear, a girl's voice. Very faint. Very weak. But I thought she may have said, 'help me'."
Lucian's eyes widened for a moment, then the cult leader relaxed his body and let out a steady breath. He too could hear that voice, echoing in Walker's mind over, and over, and over again. Kind, gentle, but frightened. Like music softly drifting in the winds. Yes, this was the one they were looking for!
"Learn EVERYTHING you can about these people. Their habits, when they eat, when they sleep, wash the dishes, do housework, even when they have their bowel movements! Do whatever you have to do to lead the rest of your fellow lawmen elsewhere. I want these Hewitts left to us."
Axle smirked and nodded, "I'm sure Miranda would be more than happy to arrange a few brutal murders to keep my other coworkers occupied elsewhere. But... I can't even be certain that I really heard that voice. Still, you requested that I tell you all that I learned. "
"Yes, and so you did. That will be all. Thank you." Lucian said, lightly running his finger under the dulled blade of the clever still in his hand.
With a dip of his head, the patrolman left Lucian alone. Their leader had his way of doing things and one way or another, his hunches always turned out right. It was as if he were clairvoyant. The sound of Axle's feet pounding along the rickety, metal steps was quite obvious, growing steadily further and further away as he left to find the Second in Command.
'See Lucian? We told you she was close at hand.' hissed the slithering voices in Lucian's head.
"What more can you tell me about these... Hewitts?" Lucian questioned.
'Why tell? ...When we can ssssssshow you? Kheheheheeeeee... but of course, a price must be paid...'
Lucian began to fall into a trance, his gaze fixated to a particular spot out on the slaughterhouse floor. The place where he found the clever, in fact. Lucian could feel the energy resonating within it, begging to be released. Anger, sadness, hatred, frustration. Without hesitation, the cultist placed the dulled, filthy blade to his palm and sliced it open. Barely, the inhuman fiend withheld his wince of pain, muttering bazaar incantations under his breath while squeezing his blood out of his hand in order to coat the blade.
Gasping sharply, Lucian nearly felt as though his soul was being ripped from his body. Through the still dirty window, he saw the slaughterhouse floor, but this time, it looked different. Cleaner, albeit not by much, with a full array of working equipment and dull electric lights. At the only occupied processing stations, was a beast of a man swinging his clever and chopping up chunks of beef to be sent to packaging. It hadn't registered in his head that the plant was condemned and shutting down. He firmly believed with all his heart that if he kept going, proved what a hard-working and reliable employee he was, that he'd be able to keep his job and help his family.
Slowly and cautiously, another man, more then likely a supervisor, approached the hulking brute, "H-hello Hewitt. T-they shut down the place today. You know that, cause I done and told you."
This did nothing to deter the beastly man. If anything, each swing only became more determined.
"Shuttin' down for good. We ain't packing no more meat. Ain't killin' no more animals, so just leave the equipment." continued the supervisor, his words shaking dreadfully as they left his mouth.
Hewitt's breathing became heavier, angrier. This couldn't have been happening to him! Growing more and more intrigued by the second, Lucian couldn't take his eyes off of the scene. Just what was the beast going to do next?
"Just get on home now, okay? You gotta go, I said. You gotta get the hell outta here, you dumb animal!"
THAT finally grabbed the brute's attention, as he turned away from the chopping block and faced his supervisor. However, he glared up at the window, almost as though he were staring daggers up at Lucian. His fingers tightened around the meat clever in a tight clench, before dropping it to the floor, glowering at the supervisor, then stomping off.
"So... he's the one, then?" Lucian whispered to himself.
'Kheheheheeeee... keep watching, my friend...' the slithering little fiends cackled, maliciously, 'Turn around...'
As he did, the cult leader nearly cried out in surprise when a sledgehammer nearly collided with his skull. However, the intense vision merely walked through him as Thomas Hewitt continued his furious rampage against another man in the office, the man that he considered to have doomed his family. Lucian backed away, still a little shaken, as the man who had insulted the Hewitt family, Thomas' old boss, and the large, masked hulk met with a vengeful fury. A sickening 'crack' echoed with each swing of the hammer, shattering bone and causing blood to spray in all directions.
"Hewitt... I-I'm your friend..." he pathetically choked out, before the sledgehammer made one final strike upon his head.
Lucian lurched again as his vision took another turn, showing brief glimpses of the masked man in a dark, dingy place, only accompanied by the pieces of a corpse and a chainsaw. But it was the vision at the very tail end that grabbed his attention. The massive brute, towering above a young woman in a light blue sundress, two dogs bounding between them. Those eyes... her eyes, as she looked up to the massive man and smiled... it was her. Blake McCormick! And now, that beastly thing had her! With another sharp gasp, Lucian found himself back in the here and now. Grimy, filthy, and abandoned, just the ambiance he and his acolytes liked. He fought to catch his breath, having drained a lot of his stamina.
"Looks like our absent Hewitt slaughtered one last piggy before he was kicked back into the streets. And now, he's taken what rightfully belongs to us!"
'Those people were all fools. Do not be a fool, Lucian. The brute is smarter and more capable then these moronic mortals give him credit for,' the demons warned, 'She has seen this within him. We warned you that there was another who wanted Amelia's Flesh and Blood. And he will not be easily swayed to relinquish his claim.'
"Then she is truly there... somewhere in that house, guarded by the brute." Lucian smirked, licking the blood off the now festering wound on his hand, "I'd say that we shake them up a bit, hmmmm?"
*The Hewitt Farmhouse*
Things hit a disturbingly startling average at the old farmhouse. Several times, Blake mentally reminded herself not to get too comfortable and fall into a lull, as this place was anything but normal. She dreaded mornings, as upon waking up, the girl had to struggle and squirm her way out of Thomas' protective grasp so that she could make her way to the toilet before puking all over the bed and floor due to bouts of morning sickness. The days were usually filled with house cleaning, chores, and assisting in the kitchen, as per usual, though Luda Mae always kept a critical eye on the girl and if she looked tired, stressed, or upset for any reason, she was ordered to rest. Even once her wounds had healed enough for her to put weight on her foot, she was not permitted to do so for extended periods of time.
When Hoyt wasn't around, Thomas would take Blake into the basement, at her request, so that she could take care of Kaylie. The poor girl was so strung out on drugs at the time she hardly recognized Blake at first as she limply hung by her wrists. At the very least, her pain was severely dulled. Though the question arose within Blake, if it would have been kinder to simply take a knife to Kaylie's throat instead of merely tending to her wounds and bringing her food and water. Of course, Thomas couldn't fathom why his girl cared so much about Uncle Hoyt's plaything, but it seemed to make Blake happier being with her.
"T-thank... y-you... B-Blake..." Kaylie weakly moaned, taking a few sips of water offered to her, before shifting her gaze downward, 'B-boy... o-or girl?'
This question took Blake by surprise as it crossed Kaylie's thoughts. News traveled like wildfire around here, the girl must have overheard Luda Mae's excitement from a few days before. Tears began to fall down Blake's cheeks the more she thought about it. The more she reminded herself that she wasn't ready for the responsibility of being a mother.
"Even... I-I c-can't be certain yet." Blake whispered, sadly.
It never even dawned on Kaylie, as her drugged out stupor put her into blissful oblivion once again, that Blake had just read her mind. Having done as much as she could, the psychic let Thomas pick her up without a fuss and carry her back up the stairs. It may not have been much, but getting the brute to tolerate other people and not treat them like cattle was a step in the right direction. Keeping him on that path, though, THAT was going to be the hard part.
Much to Blake's displeasure, when the meat storage was getting low, Thomas and Hoyt would still go out on their "hunting trips" in order to fill the freezer. But, over the course of the last two weeks, they'd been coming back empty-handed.
In the morning hours before "work", Hoyt ranted away to the rest of the family while Thomas partook in his new favorite ritual. The giant man absolutely loved rubbing his hand along Blake's stomach, feeling the small flutters and squirms of the tiny life that made it's home in there. His son or daughter. Feeling self conscious and trying to prevent herself from turning a bright shade of red, the girl turned her head away, instead listening in on Hoyt's rant about the drought in travelers they've run into as of late. She had been having rather foreboding dreams the last couple of nights, and the psychic found that they partially lined up with Hoyt's grievances. Grunting softly, Thomas kissed the top of Blake's head before sitting down to his breakfast, only to have his uncle groan in annoyance.
"Ya been listin' to a word I said, boy?"
"Not like everyone here's gotta choice, now do they?" Luda Mae sighed, rolling her eyes as she dished out eggs and... 'Not'-bacon, "Now be nice, Hoyt. Tommy's still excited 'bout becomin' a papa."
Shamelessly, Thomas just shook his head at Hoyt's prior inquiry before he ate, his mane of long, dark hair obscuring his masked face from view. (Honestly, he was far more focused and interested in something else right now.)
"What I'm sayin' is that no one's stopped by Last Chance fer weeks. Hardly see anyone out on the highway, even durin' the worst of times there's always been someone out there on the road." Hoyt growled, with a tired sigh, 'Don't wanna give her up jus' yet, but I may have ta put my piece of ass in the freezer if this keeps up. Maybe make us up some burgers... bitch burgers. Haven't had that fer a while.'
Blake felt her heart sink even further. No... no, there would be no way she'd let Hoyt just brutally kill that girl after all she had done to save her. But... would she be condemning another to death because of it? Frustrated with her own conflicting morals, Blake turned her head, staring at the old, aged wall of the house. For a reason she could not explain, she often felt the unyielding need to look in the direction of the highway.
"Blake, sweetie, ya okay?" Luda Mae questioned, concerned.
"Hmmm?" was all Blake responded with, as she looked around the dining room, confused.
Of course, Luda make chalked it up to the pregnancy hormones messing with the girl's head. Every mother was different, after all. After breakfast, the boys prepared to go out on the prowl for their hapless prey while Blake assisted Luda Mae with the clean up. Silently, the psychic prayed they'd return empty-handed once more. Maybe if people stopped cutting through this ghost town, found another way, they'd be saving their own lives without even realizing it! However, a nagging thought gnawing at the back of her mind was telling her that this was not the case. Something sinister was happening... oddly enough, if she recalled correctly, starting shortly after that state patrolman's visit. But surely...
"No... t-that's too crazy, that can't be it." Blake muttered to herself, aimlessly drying off a plate before putting it back in the cupboard.
Damn, she really was going insane! Before the girl could berate herself some more, she felt Thomas wrap his arms around her and pull her up to his chest in a bear hug, his way of saying "good bye" before assisting his uncle. Blake jumped a little, nearly dropping the glass she just picked up. Rumbling deep in his chest, Thomas stroked the girl's silky hair and nuzzled against her.
'Tommy want to stay with pretty Blake, but have to help keep food on table. Need to eat, especially nice, pretty Blake.' his gravely voice echoed in the psychic's mind.
"P-please, Thomas... d-don't go," Blake pleaded, turning around and gripping the sleeve of his shirt, "I-"
"Hush now, little one. Tommy knows what he has ta do. He'll be just fine, like always. No need to fret, Blake, the stress ain't good fer the baby, now." Luda Mae quickly interjected, gently detaching the girl from Thomas' sleeve.
'Thomas! D-don't g-go... something terrible is going to h-happen, I just know it!' Blake pleaded, mentally.
As much as she was hoping Thomas would heed her warning and ignore his insistent uncle and overbearing mother, the siren's song of his family calling him was just too much to resist, no matter how much the big brute just wanted to relax at home and pamper his pregnant wife. (Oh good God, c-could it have really gone that far now?!)
"Come on Tommy, grab yer lil' friend and let's hit the road!" Hoyt shouted, from outside while he prepped his police cruiser for patrol.
Growling softly in his throat, Thomas gave Blake a good-bye kiss before lumbering off down into the basement, reemerging shortly afterward wearing his leather slaughtering apron with his chainsaw in tow. Once the two of them were gone, she heaved a heavy sigh and closed her eyes, shuddering.
"It'll all be okay, sweetheart," Luda Mae said, reassuringly, "Now, ya wouldn't mind gittin' a start on the laundry, wouldja dear? I'm gonna get some sweet iced tea brewin' fer later this afternoon. We got company comin' over!"
Of course, the Tea Lady and the Toothpick. Who else? Blake would have to endure another day of being fawned over and her steadily growing belly touched and pawed at. Just... wonderful! Without a word, the girl just nodded, taking the freshly washed load outside to be put on the clothesline. It was at least pleasant outside, though it was going to get hotter, Blake could tell. However, as the warm breeze blew through her hair and made straitening out the clothes to fit on the line more difficult then it should have been, the psychic stared off into space again, toward the highway and beyond. Before she could even comprehend what was going on, Blake heard Luda Mae's voice from behind her.
"Girl, just what are ya doin'? I thought I asked ya to git this up."
Snapping out of her trance, unsure when it even really began, Blake shook her head. At first, she was trying to figure out when she picked up a stick. Then her eyes landed on the lines drawn in the dirt like a crude sketch of a large building. Not a residential house, more like an industrial work place.
"I... I-m s-sorry, Mrs. Hewitt... I-I don't know what came over me..." Blake gulped, nervously as she dropped the twig on the ground and carried on with her chores.
Luckily, Luda Mae was in a generous and forgiving mood, thinking that the girl just got distracted as many young people did. However, Blake knew it was a sign of some sort. She didn't have her sketchbook and pencils handy so she unconsciously improvised with what was available. For a moment, Blake thought about asking what was lurking down the dusty old highway, but given as she just got off easy for slacking with her chores, it would be wiser for the time being to just keep her mouth shut and get the work done. If her luck still held, perhaps she'd fall asleep by the time Luda Mae's fellow tea fiends arrived.
*Thomas and Hoyt*
Riding around in an older police car that had ornery air conditioning may have bothered most people unaccustomed to the climate, but it did little to bother either of the two men that were on the prowl. Usually, their first stop would be to check the station, just in case, then drive up and down the dusty, lonely highways looking for broken down vehicles and stranded, easy to pick off victims to shove in the back seat or trunk. Sometimes, they'd hit the jackpot, listening to the police radio and making it to the scene before the real cops could get there.
So far, they had been the only ones out there, with the hot asphalt, endless fields, and dilapidated old buildings for company. While watching the same old scenery drift by, listening to the hum of the car's engine and buzz of static on the radio, Thomas passed the time thinking about Blake. He was still trying to puzzle out the events of a few weeks ago... that incredibly vivid dream! The brute thought about it often, but hadn't been able to figure out what caused it. Maybe it had something to do with that stormy night, when his rage toward Hoyt caught the better of him and he blacked out for a few minutes.
"Ya been doin' that a lot, boy." Hoyt mentioned, casually, with a smirk, "Thinkin' bout that purdy lil' doll of yers?" he prodded further, lightly elbowing the giant sitting next to him in the passenger seat.
With a slightly annoyed grunt, Thomas just nodded. He didn't really want to listen to anymore of Uncle Hoyt's advice, all he wanted to do was get back, get his work done, so he could feel Blake's soft, warm body in his arms. Perhaps later that night, he'd take her to go play with Toby. (Besides, it was a good way to keep the wannabe lawman away, since he would not want to be on the receiving end of those jaws again.)
Hoyt on the other hand knew his large, irritable nephew was still angry at him for what he did to Blake and killing Jason. However, he kept prodding, seeing just how much he could get away with without having Thomas snap at him.
"Once we git back and git everything done, I can show ya a few more things ya can do with-!"
He cut himself and slammed on the brakes, sending both of them lurching forward. Stumbling out in front of the car, waving her arms and coughing from the dust, was a ragged looking woman. Her wild hair was matted with blood and dry dirt while her skin was covered in a layer of sweat and several cuts from walking through the brush. The jeans and white tank top she had on were ripped as well and she wasn't wearing any shoes.
"PLEASE! H-help... police!" the woman screamed, as her hands slammed down on the hot hood of the cruiser when it skidded to a halt in front of her, "T-they're d-dead! A-all o-o-of t-them! Y-you... y-you have t-to h-help me!"
Intrigued and excited, Hoyt motioned for Thomas to stay put for now, but to be ready to give chase should this half-crazed, sun-baked girl decide to flee. Getting himself into character, the false sheriff exited his vehicle, feigning concern. This was going to be fun!
"Well now, just what seems to be the problem here exactly, lil' Missy?"
The wild-eyed, terrified girl shambled around the car, very much resembling a zombie from an old black and white movie with the way she moved. She panted heavily, clutching Hoyt tightly as though he were her lifeline while she cried. Barely able to withhold a disgusted growl, the fake sheriff let her continue.
"W-way... w-w-way further... t-that way down the road..." she sniffled, detaching one hand as she pointed further down the highway "M-my friend's h-house... t-they c-came i-in t-the n-night, butchered m-my f-friends a-and left t-them t-to rot! B-but I-I-I escaped... yes, yes... t-to find help. I-I c-c-can t-take you there s-so you can get t-them... t-the ones t-that did this."
When the babbling, insane woman looked up to Sheriff Hoyt hopefully, he just smiled deviously. All he was thinking about was the first part she said. A house where people had already been murdered? Well, a lot of the work would have already been done for them, they'd just have to collect! After a whole lot of nothing, the Hewitt family would finally catch a much needed break. Gulping nervously, the girl let go of the fake lawman, wrapping her arms around herself, shaking, as though she knew her day just went from bad to worse.
"Ya wanna know what I think?" Hoyt questioned, as he took a step forward while the shaken girl stepped backwards.
"N-no... no... p-please... i-it was them!"
"I think you is on somethin'. One of them newfangled experimental drugs. Yeah... Ya killed all yer own friends!" Hoyt's voice rose into a shout.
By now, tears poured down the terrified girl's face as she shook her head, screaming, "No, no... it wasn't me!" at the top of her lungs.
Hoyt wasn't letting up the bombardment of accusations, yelling over her own pathetic pleas of innocence.
"Then ya come on cryin' ta me to make yerself seem all innocent. After all, yer just a victim, ain't ya? Too high on them goddamn drugs ta know what you was doin'? Ain't that right now?" he pressured, his smile of cruel delight widening.
Sniffling and whimpering, the already shaken and terrified girl turned to run, back in the direction of the house she had just been fleeing from. Chuckling to himself in amusement, Hoyt just tapped the hood of his car twice with an open hand, giving his nephew his cue that it was time to give chase. Not that it was a long one, as the already exhausted girl tripped in a shallow ditch just off the road.
It didn't take Thomas long to get out of the car, break into a run, and wrap his large, meaty hands around her scrawny shoulders before dragging her, kicking and screaming, across the hot asphalt.
"L-let m-m-me go, you big, ugly, dumb animal!"
At once, Thomas felt his grip tightening on her fragile frame, but he didn't care. Those cruel words always left their deep cuts in his very soul. It was what everyone always called him, everyone but his family and his precious Blake, at least.
"Easy now, boy... we need the bitch alive... fer the time being." Hoyt instructed, pulling a pair of handcuffs off his belt.
The girl continued to struggle, stomping on their feet, kicking their shins, and screaming while her hands were yanked behind her back and cuffed. While Thomas continued to hold her squirming little form, Hoyt just sighed in annoyance, moving towards the trunk of his car, popping it open, and pulling out a roll of duct tape. A good sized strip effectivly silenced the girl, quieting her wails into whimpers and squeals.
"There we are, that's better," Hoyt snickered, taking the opportunity to grope at her crotch and breasts, making her squeal in disgust through her gag, "Now then... we gonna go to this house of yers. We gonna see what all ya did, lil' darlin'."
Thomas unceremoniously shoved her into the back of the police car, nearly slamming the door on her ankle as he did. Calmly as ever, Hoyt put his roll of duct tape back in the trunk, motioning to Thomas that it was time to get back into the car.
"If we got time after, boy, I could always demonstrate what I was talkin' bout with her," he said, as though he were just picking back up on a casual conversation, "I'll tell ya more on the way. Get in now, Tommy. You done good work, boy."
Squinting his eyes, Thomas gave his uncle an untrusting glance. He knew full well that Hoyt was merely trying to butter him up in the hopes that he'd listen to more of his sexual advice. Since there'd be no avoiding it, Thomas would listen, but there was nothing making him act on it. He honestly liked it better when Blake let him in rather then taking her by force. So oblivious to the squealing, whimpering prisoner squirming in the backseat, the massive brute simply settled in, trapped in the car as Hoyt gunned the gas and began lecturing him... again.
::To be Continued::
Author's Notes: So, here we are at sweet 16! A bit of a fake out with the conclusion of the end of 15... of course Blake is still there! I of course also wanted to bring the slaughterhouse into play, since that was an important part of the TCM verse. (At least I think so.) It's a place with a long history of death, (Not just the animals, mind you. Thomas' birth mother, the boss Thomas killed, and people who managed to escape the Hewitts and fled to what they thought was safety. The perfect place for the cult's new base of operation, similar to how they set up at the Counselor Training Center in "Guardian Angels."
I really wanted to take another angle with this. A lot of the focus of TCM had to do with what went on in that house, but I wanted to take everyone out on the road during one of the Hewitt's hunting trips. Blake warned Thomas not to go, begged him, she knows that something bad is lurking out there but can't quite put her finger on what exactly it is. (That, and she doesn't exactly relish an afternoon stuck with Luda Mae and her friends.)
Hoyt and Thomas run across a disheveled woman out on the road, screaming and crying about murder. Naturally, the false sheriff wants to have his fun with her while his nephew has other things on his mind. Now, the chapter title that ended up going to 17 (next chapter) was originally on Chapter 15, which didn't work out, then this one, (which would have dragged it out too long), so it eventually go moved to 17 where it fits perfectly. If you've whet your appetite on smut last chapter and are now craving blood, guts, and gore... you'll have to wait for next chapter! Psych!
As always, reviews really help to motivate me. PMs make me happy. Faves... well, those give me the warm and fuzzies.
Disclaimer:: I do not claim to own The Texas Chainsaw Massacre/Nightmare on Elm Street or any of it's characters. The references to Jason Voorhees and Lisa Voorhees are from Lady_Vorrhees' story, The Strange Good Girl.