Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Rayna
The pickup truck was easy enough to hot-wire, and we didn’t even have to contend with the psycho family. We remained naked, and they remained inside. I’ll mourn the loss of my clothing later. Right now, I’m just trying not to think about how many butts sat where my pussy now touches.
Dalton heads toward Samuel’s house up the mountain. We hope our things are still there, including Van Gogh. And Raul. And the poor little rat-thong bikini that hasn’t even gotten a name yet.
The carousel slides by on our left. The elderly woman and Mr. Fox are no longer seated by the gates.
At least we know why the town feels so empty.
It’s because it is. These weirdos have somehow killed off the entire population of Oak Hollow, and no one is the wiser.
A family of nutters, and that’s saying a lot, coming from my mouth. I don’t tend to judge.
I tap Dalton’s shoulder as I stare out the window. “Let’s make a pit stop. I want to ride that wild-looking horse Grandma Moses shooed me away from.”
“I don’t know, bones.” He shakes his head as he turns the truck around. “She said the horse was a bit too much for a little lady like you. What if it throws you? We’re miles from any hospital.”
“Oh, get fucked.”
He grabs my hand and kisses it. “I can try to get hard again, but no guarantees.”
He slides the truck into a parking spot, and we get out. It feels strange to walk through town in the nude, but it’s the only way we can move around. Dalton even shed his shirt so that I wouldn’t feel like the only member of our odd little nudist colony.
As if we belong here, we stroll up to the carousel and walk right up to the famed animal. In the bright afternoon sun, I can almost believe the old woman’s tall tale. The dark horse looks very much alive, almost as if he might take off at any moment.
“Hop on and I’ll man the controls,” Dalton says.
With a nod, I allow him to help me mount the beast’s back, which is higher than I can jump. He doesn’t miss a chance to drag his finger through my bare pussy with a smirk. Once I’m seated, he brings the finger to his lips and sucks.
“Fuck, you always taste best when you’re filled,” he says with a groan.
I blow him a kiss. “You’re so fucking filthy. Don’t ever change.”
His laughter disappears into the center of the carousel, and seconds later, the organ music grinds to life.
Much like before, the deceivingly slow start gives way to pure chaos.
Dalton has just enough time to leap onto the rotating platform before we reach a dangerous speed.
He wobbles into a few horses in front of me before settling on a black pony.
“Your feet are dragging the platform,” I say with a giggle.
He looks back at me, his hair flying around his face as we pick up speed. “I didn’t think about how we’d get off this thing. More than our feet might be dragging around soon enough.”
He has a good point, but right now, I don’t care. I’ve never felt so free! Until I escaped a morgue and rode a taxidermy carousel in the nude, I couldn’t grasp it. Now I never want to let go.
But as I tighten my grip on the post running through the horse, I’m holding on for a different reason.
Unlike the horse on the last ride . . . this horse is starting to move.
Something creaks and groans above me, and I look up at the rusted clump of metal attaching the horse to the machinery overhead.
The other horses have been detached from the mechanism that moves them up and down, but my horse?
The metal screams, and the horse jerks upward.
I’m flung down, but I grip the animal’s neck for dear life.
My ass remains seated, but only just. Dalton hears the commotion and turns around as the metal hook catches and pushes the horse down.
I bounce when the rod reaches its lowest point and wants to keep going.
“It’s going to buck me off!” I scream. “That bitch wasn’t lying!”
Dalton fights against the centripetal force to make his way to me. With each step he takes, the horse seems to make another wild leap upward and downward. Metal groans overhead, and the platform whines beneath us.
“How did we not hear all this racket the first time?” I scream.
“There were a lot of fucking switches, okay? I might have pressed something I wasn’t supposed to!”
His arm bands around my waist, and I take a deep breath. Then the horse begins to rise.
“It can’t handle our combined weight!” I try to hold on to the horse, but Dalton tugs me down.
We crash against the horse to the right of the large bay, and its ass end gives way and rotates with us. When we land, our heads hang off the platform, mere inches from a bed of gravel as we move at light speed.
“Shit, I’m gonna hurl,” Dalton groans, and I concur. If we don’t get off this thing, we’ll be the first humans in existence to commit suicide via a fairground kiddie ride. All the blood is rushing toward my feet.
The large horse continues its jerky up-and-down dance as I stare up and contemplate what it will feel like to be crushed by a ton of metal and tanned horse flesh. I can only think of one way this death could be improved, and that would be if Van Gogh were by our sides.
“I love you!” I shout to Dalton.
He squeezes my hand, lets out a guttural shout, and heaves our bodies from the platform.
Gravel, sand, and God only knows what else scrape against my legs and back as I slide across the ground and come to a stop entirely too close to the wheel of death.
With my bare breasts jiggling, I scramble to my feet and look around for Dalton.
A few feet away, he sits up with a groan and fingers a small gash on the side of his face.
Blood coats his fingertips. Just as I reach his side, the merry-go-round gives a sickening groan, and the large bay crashes to the platform and slides inward.
The thick metal rod breaks through the colorful bulbs lighting up the center mast, then lodges within the inner workings.
After a few more clanks and groans, smoke begins to pour from the top.
“Shit, it’s gonna catch fire,” he says as he clambers to his feet. He grips my hand and pulls me away from the impending disaster.
Somewhere in the distance, a loud wail pierces the air, followed by a woman’s voice. “The stables are burning! Save the horses!”
Dalton looks toward the voice and shakes his head. “Come on, bones. It’s time to make our exit. Let’s get Van Gogh and get the fuck out of here.”
He tries to pull me with him, but I snatch my hand back as I spot a small figure running toward us.
“No, because fuck them. They tried to kidnap us, and they did kidnap our son. They want to kill you, and I have no desire to find out their plans for me.” I fold my arms over my chest and refuse to take another step.
“I’m staying right here. When they try to put out this fire, they’ll have to do it with their fucking eyes closed. ”
Dalton sighs and returns to my side. “That old woman doesn’t seem too bothered by our nakedness. Look at her. She’s not slowing down.”
Something explodes behind me, and I flinch, but I keep my gaze trained on the old woman hobbling toward us at .
. . well, it’s not the speed of sound, but she’s doing her fucking best. She raises the taxidermy fox and wiggles him at us, and as she shouts something unintelligible, spittle flies from her mouth.
“Wow, she is pissed.”
I scoff. “Super pissed. And I don’t blame her. That’s probably over sixty grand in taxidermy alone, and it’s about to be reduced to ash. I feel a bit guilty, not gonna lie.”
Dalton nods. “Yeah, maybe it would be best if we kept moving. They’ll be tied up with this for a while, and it will give us a chance to snoop.”
“And fuck.” I reach over and give his flaccid dick a squeeze.
I think we can knock at least one more item off that list before we evacuate this shit hole.