Chapter 5 #2
“I know,” I say with a shrug, gagging him before flipping him over onto his stomach.
Travis sobs as he sees his dead wife’s body, but I don’t have any time to enjoy it. My knee digs into his back as I secure his wrists and ankles, and then he’s sailing across the room into the wall.
Okay, it was a little petty, but he’s my second to last house. No one will hear the crash, especially not with these heavy windowpanes. They’re about the only thing worth anything in this godforsaken house.
Dragging the family members that are still alive into the living room, I pull my phone out to search for any weekend camps in the area. Finding a few due to the four day weekend, I hack my way into their office networks to find the names I’m looking for.
I’m not incredibly proficient at hacking yet, but I can do enough to find what I need to without getting caught.
“A cooking camp,” I murmur, glancing at Travis as I say the words.
The three men gasp, making me nod. Guess that gives me my answer. Their poker faces gravely deteriorate in the dead of night, and while in their underwear it seems.
I’ve been at this for about two hours, and I need to move it along. I may as well start with Bobby.
“How many times have I beaten your ass, Bobby?” I ask, pulling out a sledgehammer. “I’m really going to enjoy this one.”
Lifting it over my head, I break his kneecap.
His muffled scream makes me pretty happy, so I keep hitting him.
I force myself to enjoy it, and not disassociate.
His bones break easily as I sling the sledgehammer, and I breathe in the scent of revenge.
It’s tinged with copper and piss, but it’s mine nevertheless.
My steel toed work boot pushes Bobby onto his back and I glance at his father.
“Travis, I think you need to really see what my mother looked like when she died,” I grunt.
The sledgehammer makes a satisfying crunch on his skull, and I make sure it’s completely sunken in before I stop.
Yeah, he’s fucking dead. Travis sobs so hard he’s turning red, and I step back, ready to kill his other son.
Pulling out a gun with a silencer, I shoot him twice in the head and once in the chest.
“Travis, I’m going to make sure you can’t run or scream. You’re not going to fucking like this,” I say, picking up the sledgehammer to break his kneecaps.
It’s surprising, but there’s not as much blood on my gloves this time. Hmm, I guess the sledgehammer is more efficient. Using a syringe filled with sedative, I use it on Travis before moving on to the next house. I’ll break up the bodies afterward.
I don’t want to risk anyone waking up. I’m burning the night oil, and I really want to feed the pigs.
The Schaffers home is silent. I don’t have as much of a bone to pick with the widow. He’s more of the town bully. He and his sons would make sure to force different companies not to work with my father or anyone who wasn’t part of his clique.
It’s a disgusting way of business, so I quickly break the sons’ necks, and then sedate Darius Schaffer so he can watch as I break up his sons’ dead bodies. The asshole turns red and bitterly cries silently while I ignore him and bag up the remains.
“You’re coming for a ride,” I murmur, grabbing the bags of body parts. Picking up Darius as well with a grunt, I leave the house to go to Travis’.
I continue my path until all the body parts of the dead people are broken up, and the live ones all reside in one place. Heading out to my truck, I drive it around to Brad’s home and load up the huge bed of my truck. I thought that I would need several trips, but it turns out I was wrong.
“Be right back,” I murmur, pulling the hard top of the trunk back over their bodies
I made sure to leave two large gas cans out while I was packing up the bed of the truck to finish the job before I am able to drive out to the pigs.
Humming under my breath now that the heavy lifting is done, I pop back into each home, douse the wives’ bodies in gasoline along with the integral parts of the houses and then light them the fuck up.
I make sure the fire starts out slow so I’m far away by the time it’s lit up like a fucked up Christmas torch.
Getting back into the truck, I make sure to hit every pothole as I leave the cul-de-sac. The road out of here is about a mile and a half long, and there’s not a soul who lives anywhere near them for at least three miles.
My smile is so fucking wide beneath my ski mask as I drive to the pig farm. I make sure to park right in front of the pig pens before getting out to feed them.
My hoodie remains up as I open up the tail gate and pull out a bag full of human remains. I’ll make sure to clean this all up with bleach before I destroy it. Did I mention that my chemistry courses were very important to this moment?
It’s amazing what a college education can teach you if you’re not fucking around.
I remain silent as I drop their food into the pig pens. Though not necessary, I did remove all their clothing before I cut them up into pieces. The sound of munching is loud in the first three pig pens, and I keep coming back with more until I get the feeling I need to move on.
Pulling Travis Trumaine first from the bed of my truck, I allow his head to thunk to the ground as I drag him to the furthest pig pen. I can tell that they’re hungry and annoyed they haven’t been fed yet, especially since they can hear the others are eating.
So impatient. Jeez.
Lifting Travis up, I throw him into the pen to be eaten, boxers and all. Since it’s not much clothing, they’ll eat him alive anyway. His screams get softer and softer as the pigs tear him apart, and I walk back to pull out my next victim.
Ohh. It’s Mr. Collins. How lovely. There are more pigs waiting for his body, and soon every man who hurt my family and the others in my community are being eaten alive.
Leaning against the truck, I listen to the musical sounds of the night before I get to cleaning and destroying.
I know everyone in the area, and not everyone is as paranoid as my family.
The Carltons are instead the type of people who don’t lock their doors, so I borrow some of their bleach to disinfect my truck and tools.
It’s almost five in the morning by the time I’m done, and all evidence of my night is completely destroyed.
Getting back into the truck, I pull off the ski mask and gloves and put on a little cologne before popping into the bakery for bagels and donuts for the family. I’ll sneak in, drop off the food, and take a shower.
I look completely normal, there’s no blood on my skin or clothing that can be seen, now I just have to convince my father of the same.
I stayed out later than I expected, and he’ll definitely be up by now.
Parking my truck in front of the house, I grab the boxes of pastries and get out. My special tools are hidden in a compartment in the bed of my truck only I have the key to.
“I’m not sure whether to ask if this is good morning or good night for you,” Dad says.
Oh boy.
Raising my brow as I turn toward him, I say, “Guess it’s both. I went by the bakery as penance for staying out. Does that help?”
“You’re a grown man. You don’t need to answer to me, but I do have questions. Did you see the cloud of smoke on your way home?” Dad asks.
“Not where I was coming from,” I reply honestly. “Did some idiot leave his campfire burning?”
It wouldn’t be the first time, though I know damn well that’s not the origin of the fire.
“Nope,” Dad growls as the screen door opens.
“Donuts!” Laura yells, fist pumping the air as her blonde hair streams behind her.
“Bagels too,” I say, handing over my haul to her.
“Best brother ever,” she says, grinning as she runs back inside like the chaotic gremlin she is.
“Did you do something?” Dad asks quietly.
“Wouldn’t tell you if I did,” I grunt. “We won’t be having any more problems though.”
“Goddamit,” he sighs. “I told you not to worry about it.”
“I didn’t worry, because that implies not being able to do anything about it,” I say with a shrug. “This is my family, my ranch, my business. It’s that simple.”
“Fuck,” Dad says under his breath as I begin walking up the stairs. “Your mom was a fighter like you. She’d be proud of you. It’s why she never scolded you for locking horns with the boys at school.”
My lips curl into a smile as I think about my mother.
“I’m like you too,” I say, looking over my shoulder. “I learned to play the long game.”
His eyes widen slightly before he nods and follows me onto the porch.
“Don’t you have chores or something to do?” I ask in surprise as I pull open the front door.
“Not before I get a fucking bagel first,” Dad says with a grin. “Is that a problem?”
“Not at all sir,” I say.
Just like that, I know I’m in the clear. He’s not going to judge me for doing what I had to do.