RATED R MATERIAL
I hold no legal ramifications or liability, nor does anyone at Black Cat Editing or The Real Saga Press. The series you will be reading does not depict any real events past or present, nor real people.
It is a work of fiction.
The Bone Jar Part 2
The hum of the car tires on the highway was always soothing to Troy’s frayed nerves. He was antsy, fidgeting badly with the knob of the shifter. Caressing it back and forth with the palm of his hand. Wishing he could slam the accelerator a little heavier but if he got stopped by a cop that would be very, very bad right now. Patience Troy, he told himself. The song blaring out of the car speakers was his favorite hunting song.
Though he had bagged his little prize replacement doe for this piece of artwork, she was in the trunk right now, he had had to move his prize. He hated having to move his work. It disrupted his artistic creativities. Sometimes he even lost his mojo and had to start all over, but Ivy had been lingering too long at that door. The look of curiosity was too much for him to bare leaving his work where she might find it. Just in case she might get too curious. He wasn’t ready for her artwork yet, not nearly close to ready to start that one. He needed more time to finish this one first and prep for hers.
The music blaring in the background, …does she know that we bleed the same…, almost a scream at the level Troy had it at. Again, he caressed the knob of the shifter before shifting into fourth gear, the burr of the engine responding to his demands easily enough. He would be there soon, hopefully he would have enough day light to make it to his work space with his precious doe without ruining what he had already started.
The forest grew denser as the car careened further off the beaten path. There was no one to hear the muffled moans from Troy’s car, no one to hear the thump against the hood of the trunk. She was a tiny little thing, five foot something and maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet. She was tied up, trussed like a Sunday turkey dinner and naked as the day she was born. Her hair was shorn short, bald patches here and there on her scalp where the scissors cut a little too close.
She moaned, tried to roll to her side but instead set her crushed wrist to screaming hot white pain up her arm again. Kristin couldn’t understand why this was happening to her. Why had he done this to her? What did she do to him? Her mind raced through every possible scenario that could happen from here out, what were his plans? She did know one thing for sure, his plans included her dying – she knew this like she knew the feel of her own heart beat against her chest.
Troy slammed the car to a stop at the beginnings of a dirt road wedged between two crops of pine and birch trees. He nearly missed, he always nearly missed it, so much so that it became habit now. Damn autopilot. Thump. Thump…thump…
“Knock it off bitch” Troy growled loudly through clenched teeth, thumping his fist on the steering wheel. There was a whimper and then silence. Troy shook his head and grunted. This little doe was feisty, a fighter. It sometimes gave Troy a wicked hard on when they fought him, he liked the feisty ones but today was not one of those days. They may be out in the middle of butt fuck no where bush but there were still prying eyes on occasion even out here. He had to move quickly or else risk losing his beloved prized doe. Bombing down the dirt road at break neck speed Troy yanked the steering wheel with a hard left, nearly careening into a crop of three birch trees. He got so close to them he could see the thin papery bark peeling off the trunks in his side mirror. God damn Troy – patience man, patience, he cussed himself out.
As he was about to holler back at the bitch whimpering in his trunk again his eyes fell on the bunker door at the end of the dirt path. If you didn’t know what you were looking for you would miss that as easily as you can miss the dirt road itself. It was tucked away into a densely packed thicket of bushes, trees and rocks.
Absent mindedly Troy fingered the key on his key ring. The key to the very bunker tucked away in the middle of the bush. He had found it quite by accident, had had to have the lock retooled by a lock smith after purchasing the land it was on. It was left overs from a long-ago fevered mind that thought the world was coming to an end in the seventies. Old coot’s family let the acres go cheap too, a last remnant of a long-passed family member that they didn’t want to remember.
Troy rolled his car to a hard-jerking stop, hopefully the bitch back there would finally shut up long enough for him to think straight. He slammed it in park and cranked the – …Did she run away, did she run away …I don’t know…, music down to a whisper.
Troy slid out of the driver’s seat while pulling the keys out of the ignition. Trotting to the back of the vehicle he tapped along the side of it and over the hood of the trunk with a wide lopsided grin. He chuckled when the prized doe more than whimpered at his impending approach.
“Doesn’t that sound like inevitability dear precious doe,” Troy purred through the trunk of the car, tapping softly with every syllable, “you will make a fine piece to resistance my sweet darling doe.”
He sighed softly as he jammed the key into the lock of the trunk, turning it. The trunk flew open wildly startling Troy backwards. Oh, that fucking bitch – Troy looked up in time to see a pair of feet come flying at him and he barely had time to side step it. Kristin clipped him in the shoulder sending him twisting around and sprawling across the leaves and dirt.
“For fucks sake” Troy cursed loudly as he rolled away from another attempt at Kristin trying to kick him. Seems she somehow slipped her ropes around her ankles and was now attempting to escape him he thought as he rolled away, barely missing getting kicked in the side of the head, and grabbed her ankle then yanked upward hard. The thud of her landing on her ass squarely in the leaves made Troy bare his teeth in a primal growl of satisfaction. She has brass ones to pull this shit, now look at her. She’s all dirty and full of mud and leaves. It’s ruined, just ruined.
Troy glared at her as he came to his knees, the stupid bitch ruined it. Just completely ruined it and now he was going to have to start all over again. Why did she have to be such an ungrateful goddam bitch. Didn’t she know she was destined to be a beautiful piece of art, forever etched into time immortal. Some people just couldn’t take a gift without ruining it for everyone else.
Troy’s face reddened with pure rage and the scream that poured from the core of his being and out his mouth was more animal than man. It was over so fast Troy himself didn’t have time to realise it at first either. The shick of the switch blade as he produced it from his pocket and the sweet sickly rip of skin, followed by the coppery smell and slippery feel of Kristin’s blood splashing his face and neck. His hands had done his thinking for him and he had slit her throat in a blind rage. Now he would have to find another replacement doe for the artwork. How disappointing.
“…come back home…”
Kristin was tiny enough for Troy to carry over one shoulder. His clothes were soaked in her now coagulating blood. It had been surprising how long it had taken her to bleed out and die. She truly had been quite the fighter. Troy had lain next to her on the bed of leaves and stared into her eyes while she choked to death on her own blood and she had stared him right back in the eyes with this glare as she died – feisty little precious doe, a shame to waste such a beauty. Patting her bare ass with his hand Troy nodded and produced the key to the bunker door, unlocking it.
Walking down the dingy hallway of the bunker in the dark he started whistling softly to ease the eerie feeling he had slithering up his spine. The hallway of the bunker kind of creeped even Troy out. The echo of his footfalls sounded like little lost souls howling out of the dark shadowy corners. Sometimes he swore you could almost hear them whispering from the darkness.
Why…what did we do to you Troy.
Help me, he won’t let me go.
You are going to die like we did Troy, you’ll see, you will.
Troy shivered as he came to the four-panel door at the end of the hallway. As he opened the door he flicked the light switch bringing to life a glaring halogen light that hummed miserably. The shine of the cadaver table in the middle of the room made Troy squint a bit. He flipped Kristin off his shoulder and coldly slapped her body down on the table.
Staring at her open eyes and face Troy smiled softly and cocked his head to one side, picking up his scalpel from the medical side table he reached for the woman on his table. Just a little slit there and a big cut here…maybe I can salvage this into something else. He would still need a new doe for the current piece he was working on though.