The yeoman clenched his jaw and swatted at her poking finger. “I don’t care what you think. It was you and your bright ideas that cost the lives of nearly thirty people on your previous ship. Do you REALLY think the skipper wants that kind of ‘research’ to go on here?”
Broussard squared his shoulders and stepped into the short man’s personal space. “It is precisely this kind of closed mindedness that demands we have an audience with whoever is in charge here.” He bent low and gave his best menacing voice. “Do it, or else…”
The yeoman stiffened and squared his shoulders. “Or else what?”
Broussard smiled at him; it sent a cold chill up the sailor’s spine. “Or else when we finally do find the cure, we’ll be sure to skip your treatment.”
The yeoman swallowed hard but still shook his head. “I…I can’t be bothering the captain with something like—”
“Something like what?” Captain Proctor stepped into the space and gave his yeoman a curious look. “What’s going on here?”
Broussard sighed and pushed around the yeoman. “Captain, I am Dr. Broussard from—”
“I know who you are.” The captain crossed his arms and studied the two researchers. “What is it I can’t be bothered with?”
Stinky sat on the front steps of the house, his stomach threatening to turn on him again as Shooter paced in the yard, his eyes scanning for more of the creatures that surely must be headed their way. Both men shuddered as the female Rager screamed and wailed, her cries a constant barrage to their senses.
Stinky leaned over and puked what little food was still in his stomach. The sour taste of bile and stomach acid lingered as he spat into the dried remains of the yard.
“What the hell is he doing up there? Torturing her?”
Stinky nodded slowly. “Definitely.”
Shooter cringed. “The sadistic bastard. What’s he doing? Cutting her into tiny pieces or…” His words were cut short by a single gunshot that caused both men to jump.
“Thank god it’s over.” Shooter mumbled.
Stinky looked up at him with red rimmed eyes. “Is it?”
Simon clomped down the stairs, laughing. “Boy, you did a good job on that knot. She bucked and kicked like a bronco, but she didn’t get loose.”
“What the hell, Simon?” Shooter whispered in the dark. “You trying to get them all over here or what?”
Simon laughed again then tugged his zipper up. “Some things are worth the risk.”
Shooter’s eyes widened as he stared at Simon. “You’d risk infection just to…to…”
“Infection? Fuck no!” Simon quickly pulled his zipper down and whipped out his torture device. He pulled the whiskey bottle from his vest pocket and poured it across the offending part. “Ooh, shit. That burns.” He looked up with mock surprise. “Hope I didn’t get the clap!” He laughed as he tilted the bottle back and took a long pull.
“You’re sick, man.” Shooter felt his stomach turn and he looked at Stinky. “You should have told me.”
Stinky slowly shook his head. “What could you have done?” He spat the last of the bile from his mouth and slowly came to his feet. “Simon’s gonna do what Simon wants to do.”
Simon nodded. “Hell yeah.” He laughed again then pointed at Shooter. “Simon says…I’m getting my dick wet!” Another round of laughter burst from him and Stinky felt the urge to shoot the man.
“You are one twisted son of a…how could you rape that woman?”
Simon stiffened and glared at him. “It weren’t no rape. That ain’t no woman.” He took another drink of the whisky then screwed the cap back on the bottle. “That’s a critter. It ain’t human.”
“So…what? Bestiality? Do we need to lock you up around dogs and cats, too?”
“Watch yourself, Shooter.” Simon slowly tucked his tool away and animatedly zipped his pants. “It ain’t like we have a shit ton of women to choose from these days.” He pointed up the stairs. “That? That weren’t no rape. That was…beating off into something warm, that’s all.”
Stinky turned and dry heaved again.
“What’s a matter boy? Did you want some? She’s probably not cooled down yet–not with the workout I give ‘er.”
“Knock it off, Simon.” Shooter glanced around again. “We need to get back before it gets any darker.”
“Well then…” Simon pointed to the road. “Lead the way.”
“I’ll stay behind,” Stinky said softly.
Simon turned and gave him a nasty grin. “I knew it. While she’s still warm.”
Stinky shook his head and slowly spit. “No, Simon. To take care of the bodies.” He turned and gave him a stoic look. “If I don’t do something with them, the smell will attract others. We don’t want that, do we?”
Simon sucked at his teeth then shook his head. “You do that. That’s a good idea. Glad I thought of it.” He turned and started down the sidewalk. “Don’t take too long, now. You don’t want the boogers to catch you all alone out here!” He burst into another round of laughter as Shooter escorted him back.
Stinky watched them go then turned and trudged back into the house. He slowly made his way up the stairs and walked to the master bedroom. He saw the female’s body bent over the end of the bed, her head splattered on the mattress between the male’s feet.
The signs of Simon’s torture were evident in the scrapes and bruises along the woman’s back and shoulders. Stinky fought the urge to vomit again and quickly pulled the large bedspread from the floor. He draped it over the two bodies and pulled the door shut.
He walked cautiously to the other end of the hall and pushed the door open slowly. The lump was still where he’d left it; he spoke softly as he approached the comforter.
He did his best to sound soothing as he lifted the edge and peered beneath. He could just make out the little girl’s pale
