Return to Hell Texas Page 9

  Now they didn’t crucify every kid that ran. Almost every kid tries to run at some point. Usually that is early on or at least once they are old enough to figure out what had happened to them. In Hex’s case he’d already had his one attempt a few years before for one thing. The other thing was, he’d snuck out at night and actually made it to the highway. He’d managed to hitch a ride with a truck driver.

  Luckily Cole had been on top of things. Jade had noticed the boy was gone soon after he snuck out. Cole immediately got into his pickup and headed for the highway when there was no sign of him around the town. Once he found the truck, he suspected the driver had picked him up. He could have been wrong but Cole knew the area better than anyone. No way had the kid just vanished or found a hiding spot Cole didn’t already know about.

  Cole managed to pull in front of the truck driver and honk his horn enough to stop. The driver was believing the boy’s story about being kidnapped. So Cole cut the man’s throat right there. He dragged Hex into his pickup and cut the fuel line on the semi. He then climbed into the cab and found the emergency kit and popped one of the flares. He sat the flare at the end of the fuel line and let it burn the diesel as it poured out. Soon the diesel caught fire and while it didn’t erupt the way gasoline would, it got the job done. Within a few minutes the entire truck was engulfed in flames. Cole drove Hex back to town. He still remembered the ride back to town.

  “Am I in trouble?” Hex asked. He was slouched over in the passenger seat looking out the window.

  “Yes,” Cole said.

  “Are they going to kill me?”

  “Yes.”

  Hex nodded and looked at Cole.

  “You don’t say much do ya?”

  “I don’t say anything other than what needs to be said. You asked me a question and I answered. No sense in lying to you or telling you everything will be ok. It’s not. You broke the rules. You’ll die. That’s all there is. However, you need to make peace with that, you have until morning to do so.”

  “How will they kill me? Will it hurt?”

  “There’s several ways Nash prefers executions. All of them are extremely painful. Would you like me to describe them?”

  “No. Can I sleep outside when we get back? So I can see the stars one last time?”

  “That’s fine. I won’t sleep anymore tonight anyway.”

  That morning he walked Hex to the cross. The kid didn’t put up any kind of fight. He’d given up and seemed to welcome death. He barely even screamed when they drove the nails in. He just hung there crying until he was gone. Before he’d died, vultures had flown in and plucked one of his eyes out of its socket. He was almost gone by then, but still let out a yelp when it went for his eye.

  Looking up at Dede, she was long beyond screaming. She was looking around jabbering something incoherent to no one in particular. The young cop was standing there crying and blubbering while the old Ranger just stood there stone-faced. In a way, Cole admired the older guy, Garrett was his name. He reminded him some of himself. They were both killers. Garrett was much older, but he had seen some of the same things Cole had. The only difference was Garrett had his own misguided moral compass.

  Cole didn’t bother with such things. No point. Things like feelings, attachments and figuring out right and wrong only slowed you down or got you killed. Nash started ranting again about something but Cole turned and headed back to his trailer. He’d heard enough of Nash’s nonsense. They weren’t even religious or hadn’t been. Lately Nash had been believing his own bullshit. Cole wasn’t sure how much more he was willing to take.

  In the trailer, a foul stench hit his nose so hard he thought it would start bleeding. He stepped outside and coughed and came back in. The girl he’d used the cheese grater on earlier was lying in her cage. He’d left her in there pretty beaten and bloodied. Apparently while he was out she had expired. Walking up to her cage and looking in, he saw several rats scurrying away. Her face had been gnawed off, or most of it. There was a gooey hole where her nose had been, and her lips had been chewed off leaving her with a permanent snarl. Her eyes had also been eaten away, along with several other parts of her body.

  Cole shook his head as he grabbed her by the foot and dragged her body out of the cage and out of the trailer. The rest of the town was still near the cross cheering about something. Cole grabbed a shovel and headed up the hill. Once he was far enough away from town, he began digging. He was tired and it had been a long night. Digging a grave wasn’t the first thing on his priority list but needed to be done. Part of him wondered if they were going to kill the cops too. Cole didn’t care one way or the other. He just wanted to bury this body and take a nap.

  Chapter 23

  Doug sat in the shack looking up into nothing. The large, masked man they called Dillinger walked around him. They’d cut Doug from his post maybe an hour ago and Dillinger dragged him into this little shack, throwing him into the corner. Doug’s hands remained tied in front of him. Dillinger looped his hands over a meat hook hanging from the ceiling and looked Doug up and down.

  It was hard, but Doug knew he needed to pull himself together. He’d watched as Dede suffered and finally died hanging from that cross. They mocked him for bringing her here. Told him it was his fault and they were right. Garrett had warned him, but in reality, he’d had no idea just how evil these people were. Doug had been in shootouts in his career and plenty of fights. He figured he’d fight his way out like everything else.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t that easy with this bunch. They were cold, calculating, and crazy as fuck. He’d way underestimated them for sure. Now Dede was dead. Not only was she dead, but she’d gone through more suffering than any human being he’d ever seen. And yes, it was all his fault. However, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t kill every last one of these freaks with his bare hands. They would all suffer greatly.

  Dillinger stood over him wearing a flesh colored rubber mask. The thing looked freaky and he couldn’t imagine Dillinger wasn’t sweating like crazy under there. Maybe he’d overheat and pass out. As it was, Doug was completely at Dillinger’s mercy. He just hoped the man had some.

  Dillinger reached into the sheath on his belt and pulled out a large hunting knife. He waved it around in Doug’s face before using it to cut what remained of his shirt off.

  “Oh there we go. What are you gonna do? Gonna stab me? You gonna torture me with it?”

  Dillinger looked him up and down. His voice was deep but smooth from behind the mask.

  “I don’t think so. I like your skin. Nice color and hue to it. You see this mask? This isn’t rubber.”

  “What the fuck? That’s someone’s face?” Doug asked. Though it looked more like a smooth burlap sack with eye holes than a face.

  “Sadly, no. I’m not that good. It’s various pieces of skin from different donors. I stitched them into a mask. I got limited tools and stuff here.”

  Doug didn’t want to know anymore.

  “So with you, I’m going to cut your skin off and try to make a better mask. Maybe even using your face. I’ve tried a few times but never get it to look right. They make it look so easy in the movies.”

  Doug looked at the ground and tried to swallow.

  “You gonna kill me first?” he asked.

  “Nope, I’m afraid not. I like the screams.”

  The man reached up and began cutting along the top of Doug’s head, slicing the top of his hair and scalp away. He worked the knife back and forth cutting as if the knife were a saw. Doug screamed, but Dillinger didn’t even flinch as he howled in pain. Soon Dillinger pulled his scalp free and showed it to Doug who was glad he couldn’t use his hands or see what he currently looked like. He just hoped whatever Dillinger was doing would kill him soon. From there Dillinger cut into the side of his face, slicing and peeling as Doug’s flesh tore away from his face.

  Doug tried to scream but couldn’t get a word out as the flesh ripped and tore from his face. He could taste his own blood as the copper
y flavored liquid ran into his mouth and down his throat. He gagged and coughed some of it up onto Dillinger, who didn’t seem to notice or care. Dillinger continued to pull and cut when he ripped a chunk of the left side of Doug’s face away. He held up the flap of skin. Doug could see his eyebrow hanging from it as Dillinger shook his head.

  “See what I mean? I’ve seen some guys here can just cut the whole face off in one nice piece then make a cool mask out of it. I guess I’m too clumsy. I always cut it off in pieces.”

  The whole side of Doug’s face throbbed as blood filled his left eye, causing it to sting as he tried to pinch it shut. Dillinger tossed the skin into a bucket and kept cutting.

  “Oh well,” he said. “Maybe I can cut it off in two pieces.”

  He continued cutting and slicing until Doug’s whole face had been removed. Doug tried to struggle while wondering where Garrett was. Big tough Texas Ranger, his ass. Guy hadn’t even tried to help him. Then he remembered Garrett had been captured also. Well shit.

  Dillinger again began cutting along Doug’s shoulder, down his chest and each arm. Doug screamed with each cut as Dillinger tossed chunks of flesh piece by piece into the large bucket. He reached up and began slicing off the other side of Doug’s face. Doug struggled against his restraints. Even tried to pull himself up the meat hook and tried to leap to unhook his hands but was unable.

  “Will you hold still?” Dillinger said. “You keep wiggling around and I keep fucking it up.”

  For the next several hours, Dillinger cut and sliced at Doug’s body, removing every inch of skin. Despite Doug’s screaming, which could be heard throughout the town and hillside, no one came to help. By the time Dillinger was finished with him, Doug was a bloody red mass dangling from a hook. He was still alive but not much longer. Flies buzzed around his exposed bloody muscle as mosquitoes crawled over his body, drinking his blood.

  Dillinger had given up on making any kind of mask from Doug’s skin and instead began laying out the chunks of skin onto a cloth while carefully heating some of it over a small stove. If Doug didn’t know better, he’d have thought the guy was making jerky out of his skin. More mosquitos landed on him, and Doug tried to shake them off but they were landing on him faster than he could get them away. The stinging and itching had become more unbearable than the actual cutting had been.

  As Doug watched Dillinger cooking and even chewing on his own skin while bugs crawled all over himself, he swore he could feel the bites Dillinger was taking. The skin was detached so why did it still hurt? Doug looked up and tried to close his eyes, took deep breaths and tried to ignore the pain and itching. Thought of a happy place. He thought of the nights he’d spent with Dede, lying naked in her bed, making love to her, skinny dipping with her in the river. Then he thought of Dede hanging on that cross and he gave out one final scream.

  Chapter 24

  Garrett stood against the post in the darkness. The shadow of Dede’s body hanging from the cross was visible in the full moonlight. It looked terrifying partially illuminated by the lunar glow. Garrett was beyond being scared. He had no idea why they’d left him out here. They’d taken Doug away hours ago. Garrett heard his screams most of the evening, but at least they’d finally stopped. Chances are that meant he was dead, but at least whatever pain they were putting him through was finished. If Garrett didn’t get out of there, he would be next.

  Despite his exhaustion, he fought to stay awake. Falling asleep would mean certain death. Then again, the footsteps he was hearing behind him were approaching. He couldn’t turn his head and his throat was too dry to call out. Turned out he didn’t need to.

  “Mister. Don’t move your hands,” a tiny girl’s voice said. He managed to look to his right and the little girl he’d seen at the crucifixion earlier, the one who’d waved to him was cutting him loose. Soon his hands were free. She then cut the rope free around his waist and ankles. He stumbled away falling to the ground as his feet had fallen asleep.

  Slowly he stood to see the little girl standing there holding out the knife. At first he wasn’t sure if she was about to stab him after freeing him or what. It was a fixed blade hunting knife. No telling where she got it from, but in this town there was probably no shortage of huge knives.

  “Here,” she said. “Take it.” She pointed toward the end of town where there were some small trees and brush. “Go that way. There’s more big nets like the one over the town, but those are covering a bunch of cars. They keep the keys in the cars of people they bring here. Get a car and follow the trail down the hill. It goes to the highway.”

  He knelt down and took the knife.

  “Why are you helping me?”

  “Because you seem like a nice man.”

  “What is your name?”

  “Dorothe. Dorothe Wallander.”

  “Well thank you Dorothe Wallander. Why don’t you come with me? I’m sure your family is missing you like crazy right now.”

  “I can’t. I don’t want to go up on the cross if they catch me. Just go and bring help.”

  He didn’t want to leave this child here, she couldn’t have been more than eleven or twelve, but he didn’t have time to argue. Didn’t want to grab her and risk her making noise so he just nodded and patted her on the head.

  “I will bring help. I promise.”

  She turned and ran back to one of the shacks. He stood and made his way toward the trail and followed it as it wound through more brush. Sticks and barbs scraped against him as he limped along. He was so exhausted his legs felt like Jell-O as if they could give out at any moment, but he had to push forward. Not only was death a real possibility, but in this place it would be an incredibly painful one.

  He continued lumbering down the trail when he heard another set of footsteps behind him. This wasn’t the pitter-patter of a child’s steps. They were louder and quicker. He tried to pick up his pace but it wasn’t happening. He could only move so fast. He reached the clearing and saw the cars with the netting suspended above them on poles. There in the front row was Dede’s white Bronco. Assholes.

  He stumbled over to the Bronco and opened the door, pulling himself up into the cab. He looked behind him but didn’t see anyone. Someone had been behind him for sure. No doubt they were watching. He sat the knife on the console and noticed the keys sitting in the cup holder. Dede had several keys on a Hello Kitty key chain. He shook his head as he went to pull the door shut but that’s when a hand appeared.

  A man was standing there, his face covered in blood wearing a ripped up shirt. Garrett grabbed the knife and put it to the man’s throat.

  “Who the fuck are you?” he asked.

  “I’m Jean-Pierre Van Damme,” the man said with a French accent.

  “Who? What kind of accent is that?”

  “I am from France. I’m here studying abroad at UTEP. We were out on a camping trip when some buffoon in a mask came after us. He killed my two friends right there and grabbed the third. I got away. I’ve been hiding in the wilderness out here for days. I thought you were one of them.”

  “If you were out here, why didn’t you take one of the cars?”

  “I didn’t even know this was here until I saw you. You’re not one of them?”

  “Do I fucking look like one of them? Shit, man, if I was I’d have cut you up by now. Get in.”

  Jean-Pierre stumbled around the Bronco and climbed in. Grant started the engine and put it into gear. The Bronco rolled forward as he gave it gas and headed down the hill. It was so dark; he couldn’t see anything in front of him, so Garrett turned on the headlights which kept him from going into a huge ditch. That would have ended their escape attempt really quick. Instead, he followed the trail Dorothe mentioned and started down the hill.

  The Bronco curved and weaved through the dirt road. As they drove, Garrett thought he heard thunder in the distance.

  “Shit, it about to storm?” Jean-Pierre asked.

  “I don’t know. That was a weird sound for thunder.”

>   They heard it again but this time it was louder. In the rearview mirror a bright set of lights came on that illuminated everything around them as if it was daylight. Their lights were mounted on a large vehicle that was coming up on their tail faster than Garrett was comfortable with.

  “What the fuck is that?” Jean-Pierre screamed.

  “Fuck if I know!”

  “Get us out of here!”

  “I’m trying, dammit! Hang on!”

  Garrett stepped on the gas as the Bronco sped up but the truck behind them closed in and rammed the Bronco’s bumper jarring them forward and causing the Bronco to fishtail. Garrett corrected the skid and sped up again. This time they went around a sharp curve, and the truck hit them again. This time along the left rear quarter panel. The jolt along with their speed was enough to knock the Bronco off the road and send it rolling on its side down the hill.

  Garrett tried to cover his head as he flopped around inside the cab. The sound of metal crunching and glass breaking filled the air. He’d heard a scream from Jean-Pierre but that had been it. The Bronco rolled for what felt like forever as Garrett flopped around like a rag doll before finally coming to a stop. He lay there on the ceiling of the inverted vehicle. His body was covered in blood, and he felt blood running down his face. He reached up and felt the top of his head where it was wet and sticky. He applied a little pressure to his head and felt his skull give as sharp pain shot through his head and then his body.

  Quickly he pulled his hand away not wanting to know anymore. He was lightheaded and had an obvious skull fracture at a minimum. He couldn’t move his other arm or his legs. Footsteps approached as he lay there helplessly knowing whoever it was coming would surely kill him. The driver’s door suddenly ripped open. Garrett couldn’t see who it was, but they grabbed him by his broken ankle and dragged him from the cab.