Chapter 7

The spiked punch was innocent to the taste and sweet enough to encourage them all to suck it up with childish glee.

It took about ninety minutes for the acid to hit them square between the eyes and after that, it was difficult to distinguish reality from shadows of fantasy. Thankfully, Charlie dropped his machete before he humped the pregnant blonde from behind right over the back of the leather sofa. His two female sister assistants pretended to fuck the other Hollywood wannabes. It almost seemed like slow motion to Charlie, but he giggled at the way they mimicked a guy actually getting off giving the girls a hard pounding from behind. Their mouths were moving non-stop and a torrent of filth and corruption flowed out like an unstoppable advance of lava burning everything in their path.

Charlie thought that was equally as funny, but the poor girls were crushed by the stress of facing their worst fears and it was beginning to look like things were headed in one direction and that was straight into the pits of Hell itself.

Strangely, the first victim was the good-looking foreign man with little grasp of the English language and a submissive attitude that had convinced Charlie he had a good chance of surviving the night. Looking back on it, it was obvious it was accidental, but that was unimportant to the prosecutor’s case against Charlie and his angels of death.

After that milestone of mayhem, Charlie went outside and used his machete to dispatch the still unconscious vicious dogs that might pose a threat to their exit from the crime scene should they regain consciousness and used their teeth to rip their flesh to shreds. The angels and other male followers of Charlie’s words saw his frenzied execution and took their cue to go back into the isolated villa and so the same to the other survivors. Later, when they were questioned at length about their bloodstained ferocity, they all professed to being guided by unseen hands and felt no guilt about their misdeeds.

Charlie didn’t participate in any of that foolishness knowing that his mere presence was enough to insure his family of death finished the job and left no witnesses to point the finger at them in a courtroom.

The bus was in motion taking them back up into the foothills away from the smell of death. Most of them slept peacefully inside the battered yellow piece of junk. It was stained with little puddles of blood on the seats and floors to be analyzed by forensic investigators. The unsmiling prosecutor used it as proof positive Charlie’s innocent-looking female followers had used their short knives with terrible effectiveness.

Even the new girl with her surprisingly tight sphincter had done well in his estimation because she never hesitated to join in with the others in taking care of business.

He pulled down her short cut-off jeans liking the fact she wore no undies.

Her pale-white bottom was drooping slightly, but Charlie actually like that kind of imperfection in females that he trained to take it up their ass without complaint. His many years in jails and prisons had perfected his resentment and revenge for being on the receiving end of similar treatment. In his mind, he was simply paying his treatment forward to the young girls and women and it certainly helped to keep them in line when push came to shove.

As he plumbed the depths of the new girl’s receptive brown eye, he heard the voices coming to him in the dust from the road and the mist of early morning fog hitting the valley floor just before dawn. These were the voices that had sustained him in his worst periods of despair.

“Collect all the knives and other weapons and bury them in the sands of the wilderness.”

He passed those instructions to his followers and listened to the pounding words of his inspiration.

“Strip them all down and use the lake water behind the dam to wash away all traces of blood. Burn all the clothing and make certain all trinkets of the evening’s work get burned with the garments. Return to ranch stark naked and dance before the others to accept their accolades for a job well done.”

He looked up at the roof of the rusted out bus and spat out the words just as he flooded the poor girl’s rear end with his seeds of enlightenment.

“Thus it is spoken and thus it will be done!”

The girl whimpered and shook underneath his weight and he had to slap and spank her to quiet her down. She, once again, became docile and he continued his internal probing in her welcoming vagina after wiping his ass stained cock with her blood splattered shirt to spare her sensibility of remaining self-pride or skittish behavior.

The girl was trembling now in full orgasm and the others laughed at her lack of resistance knowing they would do the same thing in a similar circumstance.

Their return at the ranch was an excuse for the distribution of stored drugs and pills to heighten their sense of partying and the sound of the chaotic orgy filled the isolated air of the faux town with some degree of resemblance to Dante’s Inferno.

The early morning airport van pulled up outside the silent villa and the driver avoided running over the dead bodies of the guard dogs. He certainly didn’t like the look of that, but it was none of his business. He was only concerned that the two girls that had booked him for a pickup to LA International were dressed and ready because he was on a tight schedule and time was of the essence. He knew from experience that these Hollywood types were all a bit spaced out and flaky and seldom had any consideration for the needs of those around them. If he had his druthers, he would avoid them like the plague because they were nothing but aggravation and to top it all off, they were the world’s worst tippers.

The sound of his knocking on the huge front doors echoed across the dead-end ravine. There were no neighbors to be disturbed and only the dead dogs seemed to be witnesses to the strange scene. He checked his phone for a cancellation, but it was blank of any signal.

Tentatively, he turned the handle on the door and was astonished that the thing was not locked. He later regretted his impetuous impulse to find his clients. Unfortunately, at that moment, he was thinking that this assignment was the money-maker for the day and he had more bills than cash lately.

The first thing that hit his eye was the writing on the walls in what looked suspiciously like blood.

The words “Pig” and “Whore” were repeated and other things that made no sense to him at all. It was at that moment, he noticed the still forms on the stained tiles. The lack of any movement or sign of life caused him to call the emergency number on his phone without hesitation and he slowly backed out of the crime scene not wanting to get further enmeshed into the terrible details of what had occurred.

Less than an hour later, the narrow valley was crammed with police cars, ambulances and fire trucks responding to the original call from the airport cab driver. To top things off, the FBI showed up and claimed jurisdiction because of some obscure ruling about such matters. The primary investigator from the county just threw up his hands and drove back down to the nearby roadside diner and sat down to a hot cup of coffee and an egg biscuit that surprised him with its perfection.

The FBI Crime Scene section took charge of the forensic evidence and the police stood back as they collected all of the items and photographed the crime scene with redundant success. The female agent in charge did her best to keep the other agencies involved but she knew from experience that the best solution was to keep everyone away from the perimeter of the crime scene and go about their business with a “circle the wagons” atmosphere that would insure proper chain of control. Even the sheriff’s department realized it was beneficial to the investigation and they assumed a “hands off” policy that carried right down to the street cops that patrolled the area.