“I don’t think he wants you to stop,” the forward pointman said. The other pointman laughed again.
“That true, Eugene? You want me to continue?”
“Hey, boss,” from the rear pointman, “maybe you should let him see her tits.” The guffawing continued.
“That right, Gene? You just want to see some titties?” He reached around Sandy and ripped open her shirt. With his knife he cut off her bra and exposed her breasts. He turned her toward the woods. “There you go, Genie, my man. Take a gander at those gazongas.” He grabbed hold of her left breast and began fondling and shaking it. “How’s that Genie, my man? You’ve been dreaming of these tits haven’t you? Come on over here and have a taste.” He paused, looking at his men, grinning. “What’s that? You want me to taste them first?” The men howled again. Armstrong had no choice but to watch and wait for his opportunity.
Pizzaro put his hot breath in Sandy’s face. His breath reeked. Sandy fought back anger and tears. Pizzaro put his mouth over the nipple and suckled it.
“Ahhhh! Oh, Genie, you got to taste this. Just like the fine wine you like to drink.”
Eugene was only about ten feet from Sandy, hiding behind a tree. He knew what was going on, and he was determined to stop it. He tucked the Beretta in his pants while he tried to think of a plan. He kept picturing Catherine at Jaydin Casimir’s hands—helpless, and he, clueless. Not this time, though. This time he knew exactly what was going on, and he was determined that this time the guy would lose.
“Stop it!” Eugene heard himself yelling. It was a futile plea and he knew it. It was a threat that he expected to die executing; yet he knew there was no turning back.
“Oh, you want me to stop?” The men laughed.
“Well, just come on over here, and tell me to stop. I promise I will.” Pizzaro paused. “I’m not hearing anything from you, Gene. I don’t hear the crunching of dead leaves or some twigs on the ground. No, I don’t think you’re coming. If not, then I guess I should continue.”
“Do her, Sevi,” the rear pointman yelled.
“You want me to do her, Genie my man? Is that what you’re waiting for?” He reached around her waist and unbuttoned her jeans. He pulled down her zipper and put his hands under her pants, pulling them down to the knees. Then, with his right hand, he put the knife right over her panties and slid the dull side of the blade down slowly to her crotch; then turned it over to the sharp side, and held it there.
Sandy was doing her best to fight back the tears welling up inside her.
I have to be calm, my opportunity will come, she thought.
Then, suddenly, Pizzaro grabbed the panties and pulled them down. He then turned Sandy toward the woods. “Hey, Gene—get a gander of that twat will you.” The men continued laughing. The sharpshooters’ trigger fingers were getting itchy.
“You like that, Gene? What’s that you say? Too much pubic hair? Spoils the view?” Pizzaro and his men laughed.
“Hey, boss,” the forward pointman said, “I think he’s taking pictures back there.”
The other pointman spoke up. “Sevi, I think he wants a better view.”
“You want a better view, Genie? Oh, sure, I understand.” He turned Sandy toward the road. There were occasional honks from the passing cars, but still no police. Pizzaro bent Sandy over with her butt facing Eugene. Then he spanked her a couple times to the howling men. “Get a good look at that twat, Genie. How do ya like it now?” Pizzaro looked up like he was showing off his new trophy. Then he reached down and grabbed her vagina, rubbing it. “Just getting it ready for my big cock.”
“Leave her alone!” came the mournful scream from the woods.
“You know what to do,” Pizzaro said, not hollering, but softly, as if he were too busy contemplating his anticipated adventure. He then turned Sandy around so her behind faced him. Then he undid his own pants and pulled everything down.
Eugene saw what was happening, and he was about to surrender himself, then stopped. He looked at Pizzaro with his pants down and saw an opportunity.
Pizzaro grabbed Sandy’s left hand and forced it on his penis. “How does that feel, babe? You like it? You want daddy Sevi to do you now, huh?”
His two buddies were really whooping it up now. There was an occasional shout from the traffic. One guy even stopped for a better look, but a warning shot from one of the Blues let him know to move on.
Pizzaro rubbed Sandy’s vagina again and then shoved his cock into her; hard, brutal; with a desire to inflict pain. Then in and out, in and out, again and again. Sandy stuck a clenched fist in her mouth. She did not want to cry out.
All at once Pizzaro stopped to raise his arms in triumph; turning around to his men, who continued to howl. He never even noticed Eugene speeding out of the woods, grabbing Sandy and, while lifting her off the ground, headed back to the woods. In the roughly two seconds this happened both pointmen lie dead, and a surprised and stunned Pizzaro stared at a 9-millimeter Berretta pointed at him… then lowered. Before he had a chance to react he felt a sharp sting. When he looked down, there was just a red patch where his privies used to be. He stared at Armstrong, pointing the Beretta at him; then everything went black as he collapsed to the dirt and gravel at the side of the road.
Armstrong rushed into the woods where he found Gene and Sandy arm in arm. Sandy was still exposed, and when she realized it, Armstrong and Eugene turned away while she pulled her pants back up and folded her arms around her breasts. Armstrong came out of the woods. Pamela rushed over as did Ray and Cassandra from the rear point. The two Blues sharpshooters, Wrenn and Foote, drove across the roadway to this side of the road and came out. They all clapped and smiled as the three came out of the woods, and everyone crowded together.
“Well, Eugene,” Armstrong said, “a bit reckless, but well-done.”
“Gene, you scared me so,” Pamela said.
Then Sandy scolded him. “What were you thinking, Gene? You could have been killed.”
Gene retorted, “Maybe I’ve seen the Blues in action too much, but I knew they needed separation between you and Pizzaro. I figured we’d both be killed if something didn’t happen.”
Wrenn and Foote came over, each with grins on their faces. Then Wrenn spoke. “That was awesome, dude. Where’d you learn to do that?”
They all started laughing. Even Pamela cracked a grin. Finally, all the emotion that Sandy held back during her time of shame and humiliation came pouring out of her in raptures of sorrow and relief. Tears streamed down her face, while Pamela put Sandra’s shirt back on. She tucked it in, and even though everyone showed her great support, part of her was ready to run in shame. Then came the realization that they were in full view of witnesses with three dead bodies around them. “We need to get out of here now,” Armstrong said.
“Sandy, you stay in the middle. You take the lead, Pamela, and I’ll follow you. Wrenn, Foote, and the O’Reilly’s—you trail behind. No one is going to get the drop on any one of us again. All right, people—we got one fueling stop and then strait to Midmountain, Idaho.”
Chapter 23:
Another One Flees
Horace Hayfield was being harassed by the parents of the children he treated. It seemed the little tykes were waking up in the middle of the night screaming, and talking about sticks touching them, and hurting. It didn’t make too much sense to the parents at first, but after the Miller family took their youngster to a child psychologist, they believed there was a connection with Hayfield’s camp. After several other families revealed their children were having nightmares, the police were called in to question Hayfield. Since this threatened to unravel everything the government was doing with the brain probe, the investigation was terminated, and it became a civil affair in which Hayfield was being sued by the parents.