Chapter 20

After spending the day with Pat and Maggie, Oscar decided he really liked Debbie’s parents. That night, he and Pat were seated on the porch drinking coffee and talking about the family. Pat said, “Jimmy’s on the baseball team. He wanted to be on the football team, but his growth spurt came in a year too late. He grew up a lot the past six months, but he’ll never make the team. They’ve been working together for two years and won’t accept a walk-on at this point.”

“I can see where that would be a tragedy to someone his age. What about your youngest son? What’s he interested in?” Oscar asked recalling that the youngest brother was Tommy. He was the one who had a major crush on Georgia and never left her side if he could help it.

“Tommy is different. He’s into his studies almost as much as Debbie was at that age,” Pat answered. He said, “My wife, Maggie, thinks Debbie and Tommy take after her. Don’t tell her, but I think she’s right.”

The sound of a group of motorcycles revving their engines distracted Oscar. They could be heard despite the fact that they were more than a mile away. Pat said, “We’ve gotten so used to fusion powered cars that the internal combustion engine really sounds loud.”

“I’ve heard lots of motorcycles. That is intentionally loud,” Oscar said. He watched the end of the street. After a minute, five motorcycles turned onto the street and headed their way. Oscar narrowed his eyes and watched as they drove into the driveway of the house next door. The five riders revved their engines taking pleasure in disturbing the peace. When they shut them off, Oscar asked, “What’s the story with them?”

“They are bad news,” Pat answered.

Since the moment Debbie had seen the woman on the motorcycle, she had pulled away from Georgia. It wasn’t excessively obvious except to Georgia and Oscar. Oscar shook his head and said, “That’s obvious. What’s the story?”

Shifting in his chair, Pat said, “The Adams family that lived over there wasn’t ever all that stable. The boy, Bob, and the girl, Jean, were bad from the day they were born. The mother once complained that Bob sucked her tit so hard that he drew blood half the time. After their father committed suicide, their mother went a little crazy and was sent away to a hospital. She was never gone long enough for the Child Protective Services to put the kids in a foster home.

“Without the mother around, the kids got wild. The boy was a horrible bully and our kids were scared to death of him. They wouldn’t go outside to play. I can’t really blame them. To tell the truth I was afraid of him. One day, I caught Bob lighting a dog on fire and he just grinned at me like I was next. The little bastard was about eight years old at the time.

“It seemed like the cops were over at the house every day for some reason or another. They kept arresting him and the judge kept letting him go. The DA got smart and started charging him as an adult. That put the kid in front of a different judge. When he was seventeen, he nearly beat a man to death. Finally, he was sent off to jail. The entire neighborhood celebrated that day.

“The girl is just as bad. In some ways, Jean is worse. While her brother liked to hurt people, she liked to make people bleed. She was arrested a dozen times for passing bad checks, shoplifting, assault, and breaking and entering. The same judge that was letting her brother get away with his crimes let her get off. Jean ran off with a biker chick when she was eighteen.

“Last year, the mother died. Since then, the two of them would come back for a couple of days and then take off again. There has been a constant flow of bikers through that house even when they aren’t around. It’s gotten real bad. This morning, the two of them showed up again on their motorcycles.”

Oscar listened to the story. It still didn’t explain everything. He asked, “What did she do to Debbie?”

Staring at the ground, Pat said, “She’s also a butch lesbian. She tried to rape Debbie, but Jimmy and Tommy got there in time. Debbie left for the Druid College about that time.”

Music loud enough to wake the dead blasted from the house next door. Oscar said, “Excuse me a minute, I’ll be right back.”

Taking a leisurely stroll, Oscar walked to the house next door. He knocked on the door sufficiently hard enough to be heard over the music. A large man answered the door and looked down at Oscar. He was wearing blue jeans that were barely held up by a wide belt with a huge buckle. His chest was covered by a black leather vest and no shirt. He snarled and asked, “What the fuck do you want?”

The smaller man looked at the biker. “Turn down the music, it’s late.”

The big man laughed and said, “Fuck off.”

Oscar reached out and grabbed him by the ear. He twisted the ear nearly hard enough to pull it off. Pulling him down to his eye level, Oscar said, “Turn down the music.”

The man tried to grab Oscar’s hand to release his ear. Grimacing, the big guy said, “I’m going to fuck you up little man.”

Leaning forward so that his eyes were only inches from the other man’s eyes, Oscar said, “Haven’t you ever heard the expression, don’t fuck with a Druid?”

Once Oscar released his ear, the big guy stood and stared at him. The man made a fist while he said, “You don’t have a medallion.”

“Don’t fuck with a Druid,” Oscar said. The big man didn’t pay attention and took a swing at him. Oscar threw him twenty feet into the front yard. He walked over to the man and said, “Turn down the music now.”

The big man got up, stepped past Oscar, and tried a sucker punch. He flew the twenty feet back to the front door. Rubbing his head where it was throbbing from having hit the door frame, he looked back in the house and shouted, “Turn off the music.”

Oscar walked back to the house and took a seat next to Pat. Making a gesture to next door, he said, “Now we can hear each other again.”

“I knew I was going to like you,” Pat said. He was quiet for a moment and then said, “Of course, they’re going to be worse once you’re gone.”

“Druids never leave a situation worse than how they found it.”

Georgia came out of the house and, sounding very sad, said, “I think I’ll sleep in the other bedroom tonight. You can sleep with Debbie.”

Raising an eyebrow at the announcement, Oscar considered what it meant. The shortage of beds in the house had meant that the brothers were going to share a bed, he was going to sleep in Tommy’s bed, and the women were going to share Debbie’s bed. He answered, “I’m going to sleep on the recliner lawn chair in the backyard tonight. It’s a great night for sleeping outdoors.”

“Really, I don’t mind if you sleep with Debbie,” Georgia said.

“We have Jimmy and Tommy to think about,” Oscar replied. He cast a glance at Pat and thought to himself that he didn’t think Pat would appreciate him sleeping with his daughter.

The young woman didn’t answer immediately. She stood there thinking about what she could say to change his mind. Giving up, she said, “I’m going to bed now.”

“I’ll be up to kiss you and her goodnight in just a few minutes.”

“Thank you, Oscar,” Georgia said. The fact that she wasn’t going to be the only one sleeping alone that night comforted her more than she felt proper. She went back into the house feeling better than when she had come out.

After Georgia was gone, Pat said, “You can sleep with Debbie. I’m not foolish enough to think it would be the first time.”

“It was an excuse and not a reason,” Oscar said. Seeing the startled look on Pat’s face, he said, “Excuses and reasons are two different things altogether. Tonight, I use the excuse and, tomorrow, I will try to remove the reason.”

It was the middle of the next morning when a loud scream from the backyard caused the entire household to come running out of the house. Oscar was the last out the door and he paused to take in the scene that was presented to him. Debbie, her robe ripped to her waist, was being held by a biker in front of the woman from next door. Oscar assumed that the man was Bob. Three other bikers were standing around watching and joking about what they were seeing. One of them was holding a revolver and pointing it at the family.

Jean was holding Debbie’s hair using it as a lever to yank her head around. She leaned forward and said, “I’m going to make you lick my cunt until I come every morning for the rest of your life. You’re now my pussy slave!”

Ignoring the woman and the man with the gun, Oscar stepped up and punched the man holding Debbie. His fist hit the man’s left kidney. The man crumpled without a sound. Fast as lightning, Oscar grabbed the revolver. He fired into the gas tank of one of the motorcycles parked next door. The man was swearing, “What the fuck!”

Casually, Oscar threw the gun back to the man he had taken it from. The man caught the gun and stared at Oscar for half a second unable to believe that he had handed back a loaded gun. He pointed the gun and pulled the trigger. Oscar ignored the click. Three clicks later, the man asked, “What the fuck?”

One of the other bikers said, “Man, that little shit shot my bike!”

Tommy stared at the bike and said, “He put six bullet holes in it! I only heard one shot.”

Turning his back to the bikers, Oscar said, “Debbie, listen to me. It’s time for you to take out the trash.”

Every morning for the past three years, Debbie had studied martial arts with the other students at the Druid College. Oscar’s words released her from her paralysis. Not caring what happened to her opponent, her fist shot out and hit the woman holding her hair in the solar plexus.

Once the woman had released her grip on Debbie’s hair, Debbie was free to act. She took the woman across the jaw with a spinning sidekick that was strong enough to break a dozen boards. It was more than enough to break the jaw. Debbie didn’t stop at that point. Subsequent blows broke an arm, ribs, and a collarbone.

Pat and Maggie had watched their daughter completely destroy the woman in less than five seconds. Stunned by what they were seeing, they couldn’t even voice a reaction much less act to stop her. The brothers, open mouthed, stared at their sister.

Oscar stepped forward and grabbed Debbie before she killed the woman. Debbie glared at him for a fraction of a second before recovering her balance. He winked and said, “Tell her what you think of her.”

Kneeling down, Debbie grabbed the woman by the hair. For some reason that she wasn’t able to explain, she wanted to grab Jean’s face and force her to lick her cunt. It dawned on her that rape wasn’t anything sexual on Jean’s part, but an expression of dominance. She really wanted to dominate Jean at that moment. Leaving it to others, she said, “You are going to be the pussy slave for a dozen women in prison.”

The three bikers decided that they had enough and started to leave. They froze when Oscar appeared in front of them with a smile. He asked, “Do you honestly think I’m going to let you leave?”

The guy he had thrown around the previous night backed up and said, “Whatever you say, man. I don’t want any trouble.”

“That’s funny. You were over here doing your best to create trouble,” Oscar said with narrowed eyes that froze the man in place.

One of the other men said, “Out of our way, shrimp. I’ll fuck you up so bad you’ll never walk again.”

The one reaction that no one, with the possible exception of Oscar, expected was to hear was Georgia giggling at the threat. She nudged Pat and said, “Imagine that idiot threatening a guy who killed two hundred terrorists in one afternoon.”