Purdy Thang

The heat felt like a sauna. An hour earlier the rain had pelted down and drenched the countryside. Now steam rose from the roadside grass as the afternoon sun baked down relentlessly. Rusty's clothes stuck to her skin and she was damp with sweat in all of her intimate spots. If only she hadn't worn black, but she wanted to look good for him. She needed to be everything in person for him that she had been online.

The Greyhound had taken her down to Mobile but then she had to get to Monroeville on her own. A trucker had given her a lift to Grove Hill. From there the rest of the way was about twenty miles. If it wasn't for the heat, Rusty might have been able to walk it even if it took all day and night. The little wheels on her suitcase rumbled along the hot cracked asphalt, bumping and scraping over loose stones. Traffic was sparse along Alabama Highway 12. Whenever she heard a vehicle in the distance, she would check it out first before deciding if she should stick out her thumb. If it looked dodgy she wouldn't chance it. If it looked like a family or an old lady it was worth it. For some reason Rusty felt most comfortable with big rigs but she hadn't seen any on this stretch of road yet. It really was East Bumfuck USA. Drew had told her that he couldn't risk giving her his cell since his wife might find her number on the bill. She was to meet him at the Old Dixie Diner or the Pinewoods Motel. He worked nearby but was often out in the field. Drew was a petroleum engineer and maintained gas lines in three counties.

Being from Omaha, Rusty was used to the heat, but ever since Memphis, the humidity had been intense. It sucked the energy from her body. Her figure had always been on the pudgy side and she packed her chunky thighs into black tights. Her top was also tight and black. The lacing in the front exposed a narrow gap of pale flesh and the black lace of her bra, holding up her ample swell of cleavage in a deep low scoop. The sleeves diminished below her elbows into tattery wide bells.

Rusty had gotten her knickname from two things: her natural dark red hair and her last name. She had been born as Nicole Janice Russell. Her bangs were sticking to her forehead. On the surface her hair looked quite unbothered but beneath, her roots were soaked. She wore it long and straight past her shoulders. Running down either side of her face was a tuft dyed jet black. Inside her leather boots, her socks were completely gummy with sweat. Her feet were slowing, occasionally dragging.

The rumble of an engine drew near. Looking over her shoulder, an old pickup rusted out so badly that she couldn't discern its original color came around the bend. She didn't like the looks of it and let it pass. A scruffy shirtless man with a vape pipe hanging from his mouth paid her no mind as he motored by. His vanilla smoke hung in the air for a minute or two while she continued to drag her case.

The grass grew thick and wild in the ditches but she could tell by its relatively uniform height that it had been kept swathed every so often. At some points it seemed to grow out of pond water. The trees in the background did too. She had lost count of how many culverts had crossed over marshes or the occasional lethargic nameless creek. Frogs croaked and flies buzzed. The mosquitoes weren't bad yet, but Rusty didn't want to think about how thick they might become once the sun would begin setting. With any luck she'd get a lift into Monroeville before then.

In a place called Whatley, she bought herself an iced tea. Rusty had to be careful with her money as she wasn't sure how long that she would need to make it last. Half a mile down the road the tea was gone. She tossed the empty bottle into the tall grass.

A car came. She could hear its tires rolling smoothly along the pavement. It was a late model Chevy in good shape. A shriveled figure sat behind the wheel. Rusty stuck out her thumb. As the car passed it began to slow, then finally came to a halt on the shoulder about fifty yards ahead. She quickened her steps to reach it. Panting heavily, she opened the passenger door and leaned in.

"Where you headed, Miss?" the old man asked. His local drawl was thick. He was short and portly in a white short sleeved shirt and light blue slacks and wore wire frame spectacles. A pen was clipped into his front pocket. The interior of the car was clean and tidy and still smelled quite new.

"Monroeville," she answered as she took off her funky black sunglasses.

"Well," he began thoughtfully. "I can take you as faw as the fawty-seven junction. From there is 'bout fi' miles," he said.

"Okay," she agreed. Five miles was doable. It would take her a couple of hours if she didn't find another ride.

"Well you better git in," the old man said. "There's gators 'round these pawts. If they hungry enough they can outrun ya."

The old man was pleasant. His name was Bill. The ride was mostly quiet with only brief small talk. The car's air conditioning was a godsend. In a little over twenty minutes they had traveled what would have taken her all day on foot. The highway came to a fork and Bill pulled over.

"I might take y'all the way there but I gotta be in Appleton by five o'clock," he said. "You just head down that there fawty-seven 'bout fi' miles," he instructed, pointing down the road's left fork.

"Thank you so much," said Rusty as she opened the door into the sweltering heat and dragged her case onto the pavement.

"You take care now, Miss," he said. She shut the passenger door and the silver Chevy rolled away. Soon it was gone around the bend, the sound of its tires fading into the silence. The ground was more solid here and the woods were thicker. Rusty figured that the less swamp there was, the less chances of those alligators that Bill had warned her about being around. The sound of the frogs was replaced by the chirping of birds. She checked her phone. It was 4:26 pm but she had no reception and the battery was low. She shut it off to save power and tucked it into the zipped pouch on the front of her rolling case.

The sun reflected brightly off of her pale chest. Glancing down, she noticed the skin already turning pink. Sunburned tits were the last of Rusty's worries. She put her funky shades back on and began dragging her suitcase behind her down the road, past the highway sign reading '47 North'. There was a semblance of civilization here. Farm houses were frequent. Lawns were mowed. The next sign simply read 'Monroeville' with an arrow pointing forward. Rusty felt like she was on the home stretch. She could be there before darkness fell. Then she could find that Old Dixie Diner and plug in her phone to see if she she could find Drew on the chat app while she had dinner. They hadn't talked since the stopover in Kansas City and she was anxious to make contact.

The old rusty Ford pick up rambles onward, hitting rut Lenny’s red “Make America Great Again” ball cap bounces off his head. He leaps to catch it but misses, half hanging out the window, “Stop George, stop the damn truck.”

“We ain’t got time Lenny. Its Sunday and you knows the liquor store closes at six.”, the older taller brother shouted above the wind roaring though the windows and the sound of “Sweethome Alabama” blaring out the speakers.

Still hanging out the window his long gray hair yellowed by nicotine flaps in matted tangles as he spites out a wad of tobacco half of which caught by the wind curves back and sprays tobacco juice over his hair and making his freshly laundered t-shirt look like it has freckles. His hat growing smaller and smaller in the distance disappears as if it has been swallowed by the red bama mud thick as gumbo.

Swerving again George shouts, “Fuck did you see that!”, as a twelve footer, trots across the road.

Swiveling his head, “I sees it George, sheet, wish I had my gun, that gator was good eat’n size.”

The black lizard disappears submerging itself in the swallow muddy water and reeds by the roadside awaiting its next meal. Just a few bubbles mark where its hiding ready to ambush anything which crosses its path.

No sooner had the gator disappeared the sound of a running tap changes to a smooth hum as tires find asphalt after a half hour of spinning and plowing through mud.. The pink returns to his knuckles as he finally relaxes his grip on the steering wheel.

“Glad we got on the payment look up ahead Lenny.”

“Hell and tarnation I ain’t never seen the sky so black”, squinting through his blue tinted glasses, “That’s goin’ to be a toad strangler.”, stretching his neck to get a better look his noise all but touching the windshield. Ping, ping, ping the rain falling in large drops pelts the roof of the truck.

“Maybe it won’t be too bad and Uncle Jessie needed a wash job anyhow.”, George exclaims as the crunch of gravel fills the cab, “Well God must be smiling on us we made the liquor store before the rain really starts coming down. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Wetting his lips and slamming the truck into park which lurches in protest, not noticing George, leaps from the truck highfoot’n to the store swinging open the door. “I need two bottles of Southern Comfort and two more of whatever is on sale. Oh and a pack of papers. ”, quickly turning around to check on Lenny.

The elderly matron reached her full five foot ten pulling the bottles off the top shelf and nimbly turning placing the two bottles of Southern Comfort in a bag her boobs sagging with age almost touching the waist high country top. Then slowly she reaches under the counter pulling out two quart mason jars.

“Its local, I make it myself. Trust me it’ll put some lead in your pencil.”, reaching for a pack of zig-zag papers just as George turns to face her.

“I don’t want them hippie papers them’s fer fagots and liberals, you got any USA Flag papers? I’m proud to be American and I’ll smoke free or die.”

Patting her hip she slips her hand behind her and pulls back the hammer of her Smith and Wesson 327 just in case. With practiced skill she reaches up and retrieving the USA Flag’s, she swiftly rings him up, “Will that be all sir?”, without taking her eyes off him or her hand off the handle of the S&W.

“Yeah how much is it?”

“Forty-four fifty with tax.”

Laying to twenties and a ten on the counter, “Keep the change”, his thirst getting the better him he slips the papers in his wallet and cradles the bags in his arms as if he were carrying a baby as his walks quickly, nudging the door open with his foot and trotting to the truck. Tossing the sacks on the seat he hops in, just as the slam of the truck door quiets and the engine roars to life, WHAM!

Lightning brightens the sky from horizon to horizon and the thunder rattles the widows of Uncle Jessie the sky opens and and rain pours down in buckets. Luckily George had replaced the wiper motor less than a week ago. Flipping on the wipers his thin lips pursed into a smile under his thick white mustache as the rhythmic sound thoop, thoop, thoop of the wipers sliding across the windshield allow for some visibility. Luckily Lenny had already rolled up the windows.

We can’t take the mud road back Lenny we’ll have to take 47… He slipped the truck into gear and pulled back onto the highway… “Lenny crack a bottle I need a drink”

|”I can’t George remember Momma said you should never drink and drive”

“Lenny that’s why she had you drive her sorry ass everywhere. Hell you were what ten years old you could barely see out the windshield. Lucky you didn’t git yourself killed.”

George points, squinting, Look up up ahead it looked like someone standing under the overpass."

Slowed down pulling along side of the person, it was it was a woman soaked to the bone shivering so bad it looks like she’s doing Saint Vitus’s dance.

Rolling down the window, “You OK miss?”, said Lenny, admiring the way her clothes cling to her curvy frame.

Her feet felt swollen in her boots as she walked on. Around the next bend the skies looked dark ahead. In fact everything was darker. Branches of the trees began to swish and tussle about and a cool breeze brought some relief from the sweltering heat. The weather was changing, as it had earlier, but in the reverse. The smell of the storm was in the air. Perhaps a hundred yards ahead there was an overpass. Rusty picked up her pace.

The first large drops smacked the pavement heavily before her, then on her. Then she could see the wetness on the road marching towards her like an advancing army. Almost running, she dragged her case along the white line marking the narrow shoulder of the road trying to race the storm front to the bridge. It was futile. Within seconds, her arms were soaked, then her knees, then the rest of her, right down to her underthings.

The overpass was a railroad bridge. As she approached, the little green sign read 'Monroeville City Limit' but there still didn't seem to be any city around. The landscape hadn't changed at all. Red mud oozed out from an approach next to the overpass, onto the drowning highway. There couldn't have been much further to go. Thick dark wooden poles held up the iron box of the overpass and Rusty slowed as she took shelter beneath it, gasping for breath. She needed to quit smoking. She had been trying for three months and had cut down considerably, only having one that day, before leaving Mobile. The last two remaining, she was saving for when she really needed one. This was one of those times. Digging in the pocket of her suitcase, everything was already soggy. Rusty fumbled with the lighter and cursed when several attempts failed to ignite.

That was when she saw the dark copper snake slithering in languid esses through the water sheeting across the road. It the biggest snake she'd ever laid eyes on. If fully unraveled it may have measured four feet. As it moved towards her it gave her chills, and with startled quick steps Rusty crossed to the other side of the road. Then the serpent ventured out into the storm, crossed the highway and slipped into the thick red mud of the approach before selecting an appropriate spot to disappear into the grass.

If it wasn't one thing it was another, and she found herself beginning to shiver from the sudden wet cold. The overpass may have blocked the sheets of rain but the water still dripped heavily from the beams and there was no place to stay dry. Rusty tossed her hair back and wrung out the length, then leaned over her bag to keep its contents as dry as possible before opening it and reaching for her hooded sweater. It was black with 'Slipknot' scrawled in red across the chest, the graphic severed down the middle by the open zipper. It wasn't going to keep her dry but at least it might stop her shivering. She threw it over her shoulders like a shawl.

Loud exhaust throbbed in the distance, coming from town. Then there was the swish of tires through the sheets of water on the road. Finally, over the low crest came a beat up old pickup. She didn't like the look of it and hoped that it would just pass on by. She was so close to town that she didn't need a ride anyway. Fenders caked in mud nearly the color of the body rust, the truck slowed when it approached, then squeaked to a stop beside her. She backed up a step until she was up against a post.

Two men sat in the cab wearing dirty ball caps. Their straggly grey beards were stained. Rusty couldn't help but think that they made duck calls for a living.

"You okay miss?" asked the one in the passenger seat as his forearm bent at the elbow hung out the window.

"Yes, I'm fine," she said dismissively. She didn't want to talk to them at all. They had a bad vibe.

As Lenny spoke to the young lady, George fixes his gaze on the long stretch of highway, it was so hot wisps of steam bellowing off the long black twisting ribbon of asphalt until it disappears over a distant hilly horizon.

While Lenny began talking to the brunette, George’s head starts bobbing to the southern twang coming from the radio, “ We're from North California and South Alabama, and little towns all around this land, and we can skin a buck; we can run a trotline, and a country boy can survive, country folks can survive, country boy can survive.”

Lenny pulling his elbow in from the window he carefully unrolls the sleeve of his black t-shirt until a pack of Marlboro’s pops out. Daftly catching them, he begins absentmindedly tapping the red and white box on the dash board between two unidentifiable brownish stains, then precedes to flip the box over and draw one from the bottom of the pack, “If smokes look unopened it discourages lowlifes from bumm’n ‘em.”, explaining his actions to Rusty, with a sly smile and a wink, “Pruty clever ain’t it.”

Taking a moment to judge her reaction knowing full well she’d be impressed by his superior intelligence, “I lernt that there trick in Uncle Sam canoe club", placing his finger on the tattoo of an anchor above the eye of the anchor in bold block type was the unmistakable letters “USN”. Below swinging on one of it flukes was a well endowed naked woman with long locks of flowing black hair.

Crossing his legs and striking a match on the heel of his boot it bursts into flame filling the cab of the truck with the smell of brimstone, raising his hand and touching the tip of the flame to the cigarette, Lenny takes a puff and the tobacco turns into a bright glowing orange ember.

George looking at his brother in disgust, “Offer the lady a smoke, or I'll put a knot on your head, a calf could suck.”

Taking off his ball cap and slapping Lenny, “Pardon my brother, he just don’t know hows to treat a lady. He’s so stupid he couldn’t get a fuck in a whorehouse with a fist full of fifties.. Lenny how many times have I told you when you’re in the presence of a lady you have to speak politely. ”

Lenny extends his arm pressing the box of Marlboro’s almost in Rusty’s face, “Want a smoke and where in tarnation are you headed Miss?”

"If smokes look unopened it discourages lowlifes from bumm'n 'em. Pruty clever ain't it?"

Putting on a show of his attempt at wit, his apparent stylish stowage of tobacco, and his patriotic ink, if he had thought that she was impressed he was badly mistaken. Even the choice of blaring dense music confirmed the IQ of these two to be hovering somewhere near the number on the last posted speed limit sign. The passenger lit his smoke as the one behind the wheel admonished his manners. Obviously the both of them had taken a liking to her but the feeling was not mutual. Whether their cordiality was genuine or not, Rusty was not the least bit interested. Indeed, southern hospitality be damned, these two unkempt backwoods redneck hillbilly twins made her cringe. She removed her sunglasses to wipe the beads of rain from the lenses onto her sweater, revealing her brown eyes, two drops of warm soft caramel, then hid them away again as she replaced the shades.

"Pardon my brother, he just don't know hows to treat a lady."

As if this one could give him any lessons. Then the passenger stretched his arm out to offer her one of his Marlboros.

"Want a smoke and where in tarnation are you headed Miss?"

He didn't possess the capacity to separate his questions. Although outwardly benign enough, there was a boldness to his inquiries that she found invasive and would have caused her to step back again if she weren't already up against the woodwork of the bridge. Things were brightening again as the clouds began to part and the sunlight glinted harshly off the landscape's new sheen of wetness. The rain had thinned considerably and the air had lost its chill, and as the weather could not make up its mind, neither could Rusty as to whether or not to accept the offer. The cigarette was terribly appealing but she would just as soon be rid of these local kooks and didn't need to give them any reason to linger.

Just then the sky lit up like a strobe and not two seconds later the sharp crack of thunder split the air in two, its shockwaves reverberating in all directions. It gave her a start and she inhaled deeply in recovery as her adrenaline abated. So close to her destination, her journey just refused to end, and in fact seemed to only get longer. If she could just get a hold of Drew. There would have to be reception if she was this close to town. Even in such a backwards place like this people had cell phones and internet. She would try again.

"No thanks, I'm fine," she said with a trite and dismissive smile. There was no way that she was going to tell them where she was going. It was none of their business. Leaning down to unzip the pouch on her suitcase, Rusty took care to turn her body to hide her cleavage as she fetched her wet phone and switched it on, relieved to see it light up. In the meantime she needed to come up with a good lie or two to make these hicks leave her alone.

When she refused the cigarette he tucked the pack safely back into his sleeve, then allowing his arm to fall out the window. Lenny took a long draw on his smoke trying to claim his nerves. His upper lip quivers and his cheek glow red.. What a rude bitch.

He asked a direct question, where was she going, and she completely ignored the question. Perhaps she didn’t have enough education to understand multi-syllable words like tarnation. To top it off not not only did she ignore my question she refused a smoke. In spite of her less than neighborly behavior his eyes were drawn to her. He couldn’t help himself.

Even at a distance he couldn’t help but notice her round full bosoms, they look perky and lightly pink from being kissed by the afternoon sun. Closing his eyes his mind flashed back to years ago, with a shutter, he could see his mother’s saggy vain riddled tits hanging in his face as she demanded he suck them. He could still hear himself screaming, ‘No Mama, no its bad.’ He raises his hand and rubs his cheek remembering a slap from years ago.

As he opens his eyes he could hear the radio and his fingers tapping in rhythm to the tune. The more Lenny thought about her inhospitable ways the harder his fingers tapped the faded cloudy red door of the ‘87 Ford. The more he knew she’d have to be taught a lesson.

Even as the ground soaks up the rain his eyes soak her in. The way the black dress clings to her every curve, and whenever the wind cast aside her sweater how the soft white flesh of her breasts could be seen though the now wet translucent dress as if they were hidden by the lightest of shadows.

He still couldn’t get over how rude she is, if she wasn’t so pretty he would have already leaped from the truck and turned her over his knee teaching her some manners. His cock stiffens from the thought of turning her over his knee and hiking up her dress to expose her big ass. He could imagine how firm her ass is yet how it would jiggle as he smacks it and how good it would feel to give it a little squeeze.

George still oblivious to everything but the radio pays no heed as his brother leaning halfway out the window stretching his neck trying to see what the ill-mannered bitch was doing. Watching her carefully unzipping a pouch and retrieving a cell-phone, prompted thoughts of her unzipping his own very personal package.

As if God answers a prayer, a sudden gust of wind lifts her skirt showing her calfs and luscious thighs, yet dying before exposing anything else. Lenny prays for another guest of wind.. There’s a blinding flash of lighting and a clap of thunder shakes the truck was God’s reply, Lenny was sure of it.

“Ma’am if that’s a cellphone there ain’t no coverage out here til you gets to Monoreville. If’n you need to make a call we can take you there.“

Her phone's power up sequence was agonizingly slow.

"Ma'am if that's a cellphone there ain't no coverage out here til you gets to Monoreville. If'n you need to make a call we can take you there.

He was actually trying to get her into the truck, just like how all of those horror stories that young women are told to avoid would start. The situation had all the warning signs and these two were not the kind of people that she wanted to be with. Her heart raced like an alarm!

"No thank you," Rusty said rather wide-eyed. "I'm fine." Then she looked away and stepped towards the back of the truck, towards town, hoping that once out from under the bridge there would be some sort of reception. Grabbing her suitcase by the handle she began walking slowly at first, but then soon briskly, her feet urged by her growing fear. Not wanting to show them her attention, Rusty refused to look back, but kept her ears peeled for any movements from the truck.

The antenna icon had one little bar next to it. Then the bar disappeared. She cursed under her breath, then it reappeared. She'd probably need at least another two bars, probably three to run her app. Then there was no telling whether or not Drew would even be around to answer. The next crest on the road couldn't have been more than a couple of hundred yards away. After that, judging by the trees beyond, there seemed to be a bend to the right. She only hoped that once there she would see some town, or even a house or two. Civilization had to be at hand. As close as the crest was, it was infinitely farther from her than the two hicks in the truck behind her. The phone still wasn't picking anything up.

Lenny watches her walk away and he nudges his brother, “Will you look at that ass, reminds me two pig wrestling in a gunny sack.”

“I hear ya Lenny I gotta have me some of that”

Reaching behind the seat fishing around till his fingers touch what he’s looking for and the discover brings a smile to his face. He wets his lips as he once again looks at her, transfixed by the way her hips sway. He slowly and silently opens the door and sets foot on the ground. His eyes narrow with a leer as he spins the lasso over head. He grits his teeth and a small dab of spittle hangs from the corner of his mouth. She was only fifteen feet away he could do it. Please lord let my aim be true I’m too old to be chas’n after her, the refrain echos in his mind as his spins the rope quicker. With a snap the rope lunges out and circles its target. With a yank it tightens around her waist, pulling her to the ground.

She lay on her side giving George a nice view of her ass. She seemed stunned for a moment, as George walks toward her winding up the rope as he grows closer and closer. Hoping she’d put up some kind of struggle but there was no moment whispering to himself, ‘Oh my God have I killed her’.

As he reaches down to hogtie her.

The dull throb and rattle of the exhaust began to fade as she quickly left them behind her. The she heard one of the truck doors open, but she could tell that the truck wasn't moving. Not daring to turn around, panic quickened her already determined stride.

It was as if a bug flew in her face, but it was too big to be that. It couldn't have been a bird. With a whooping gasp, Rusty raised her arm in a wild flinch and whatever it was rubbed down past her elbow. Her right arm that towed the suitcase was suddenly tight to her side. The case fell from her hand and the handle clacked as it struck the pavement. The next thing that she knew she was pulled off her feet and unceremoniously and ungracefully dumped onto her butt. Rolling over, she saw the driver approach with a coil of rope in his hand, the rest of it was around her waist. She'd actually been lassoed.

"NO!" she screeched wildly, her eyes round and white with terror. "GET AWAY FROM MEE!"

With her right arm cinched to her side, she shook it raggedly, and with the aid of her free arm was able to work it free. This slackened the loop and allowed her to pull it up to her shoulders as she rolled away from his advance, got her feet back under her and scrambled up. Taking a forceful stride towards him, she let her left leg swing at his groin. As soon as she connected, she turned and ran, lifting the rope the rest of the way past her neck, chin and forehead, to toss away.

"HELP! RAPE! HELP!"

On the right side of the road less than a hundred yards on, was a chain link fence and she altered her course to cross the highway towards what she hoped would be a yard with a building and people. To her horror, as she approached it was merely a tiny shack used for maintenance of some utility like power or plumbing or something. She ran up to the edge of the fence, grabbed the links and shook them in vain.

"SOMEBODY!" she cried in shrill alarm. There was no one there. Her arms shook with fear as she huffed and puffed for breath. Her chest heaved and bucked as her desperate lungs panted for air. The suitcase was left behind on the road with everything in it, her money, her phone, just everything. Rusty glanced over her shoulder at the truck. The engine revved as it made a u-turn under the bridge and started after her, reigniting her fear.

Before he sees anything her foot comes up and connected, with a low groan Lenny collapses to the ground and curls into the fetal position. With a screech George stops the truck. The chattering scream of the breaks did little to muffle the mournful cries of his brother. George leaps down from the truck and takes the rope and pulls Lenny into the grass, “You just stay here”, patting his brother on the shoulder. He grabs the suitcase and tosses it into the truck and jumps in beside it. He shifts the truck into drive, guns the gas and does a U’ee giving chase to Rusty, before he even closes the door.

Within minutes with the rope in one hand he shuts off the truck jams the keys into his pocket takes off into the woods listening for any movement, ‘Damn why did we leave the dogs home’, he mused his eyes and ears peeled for anything, anything at all. Suddenly he stops something catches his attention, creeping slowly and crouching low as if he were staking game he spots her, ‘Hell I hope she don’t go in there I guess she hadn’t seen the signs yet’...

Less than a hundred yards to her left was a sign half covered by a green tangle of Kudzu, a large green sign with skull and cross bones poison logos in each corner in the the center large white letters boldly declaring the area a “TOXIC WASTE DUMP” and in smaller black type directly under that was written “Do not enter”. The metal legs of the sign corroded so badly by whatever was buried there its a wonder the sign stood at all.

Silently creeping up he’s within an arms distance away from her but just as he reaches out to grab her he steps down and resounding crack echos though the woods. He looks down is jaw drops he had stepped on a twig. He froze hoping she didn’t hear but known she did. Placing each hand on the rope he raises it up and in a blur the rope is around her and he pulls her close. Their bodies mesh together, and he adjusts his position so she couldn’t do to him what she did to his brother.

Holding her wrist in a vice like grip he loops more coils of rope around her, like a spider entrapping its pray. Finally the job was done and she was tied up pretty as a Christmas present.

Panting he manages to say, “Scream all you want, ain’t nobody goin’ to hear ya out hear that town’s been dead for more than twenty years. Now come along...”, shoving her in front of him prodding her to move by a sharp jab of his fingers to her back.

"Now move along, you ought to be thankful I got ya and not Elvis."

To her left there was a path. It was wide enough to be a single lane road but was overgrown with tall weeds and some brush. It veered away from the highway behind the shack. The truck rumbled louder, closer. Rusty set off through the grass and into the bushy path. In the distance, a dog barked. It was a sound of civilization, a sound of hope.

The grass was past her knees and heavy with wet. Her tights, already half-dried from the storm shower were soaked through once more. She pushed a branch from her face and persevered. She tried to listen for the dog but had lost the bearing. The brush was only getting thicker. Behind her the foliage was a narrow tunnel of green. Every step was difficult as brambles tangled about her feet. She stumbled and felt the scrape of thorns tear at her right forearm. She struggled back to her feet.

"HELP ME!" she screamed out of breath. "SOME ... SOMEBODY!!"

Rusty thrashed about in the bush, leaves shaking heavy drops of water down upon her. She almost didn't hear him coming up behind her but her ears detected movement that wasn't her own.

"NOOOOOO!!" she screeched with terror as she jumped and thrashed with renewed adrenaline, but it was too late. The rope was around her again and she felt his body up against her back as he reined her in.

"Scream all you want. Ain't nobody goin' to hear ya out here ..."

"RAPE!! RAPE!! RAAAAPE!!" she shrieked desperately as she kicked and flailed, trying to connect with anything, to cause any random pain or damage that she could.