Chapter 16 Hidden sanctuary
They drove in the pitch black night for what seemed hours while they kept him in
the trunk at the back of the car, naked and wounded. The car was speeding, every
time they made a turn, G-forces will throw Michael's tormented body against the
side, hurting him severely. He was getting scratch wounds all over his body from
the pointy innards of the trunk. Still they kept driving. The oxygen level in
the air was getting low while CO2 clouded his head, making him sleepy. Michael
knew that if he dozed off he would never wake up again, so he kept fighting the
drowsy fog that was clogging his consciousness, but as the trip took longer and
longer it became harder for him to keep himself awake. Eventually he closed his
eyes and let himself slip away. If Fly and Jake hadn't reached their destination
within minutes afterwards and had opened the trunk, he had certainly passed over
to the other side.
"Hey! Wake up white boy! Don't fucking die on me now! I don't want to have to
bury your sorry white ass."
Michael opened his eyes, Jake and Fly had dragged him out of the car. He was
lying in the mud on the side of the road with both his arms locked in the grip
of the two black men. Their dark hostile faces were hovering above him like
gigantic insects.
"That's a good boy! Now get the fuck up and start walking, we don't have all
night to spend on you."
They hauled him to his feet. Clumsily and shakily he took a step, but the pain
resulting from this action reminded him urgently that his body was too damaged
to perform the task; bending his knees was like sticking needles into it and
using his buttock muscles ruptured his arse. He could feel a stream of warm
blood run down his shivering legs. He whimpered, begging them not to let him
walk anymore.
"What's the matter with you bitch, I told you to walk! Now start walking!"
Jake grabbed his protruding genitals and squeezed them till they turned purple.
Michael cried tears of pain and humiliation, he dropped on his knees and covered
his sex with his hands, trying to protect it. But Fly grabbed his wrist
violently and twisted his arm in a 90 degree angle, causing poor Michael utter
agony. He gave up and let Jake's hand grab hold of his wrinkled balls and penis.
Jake jerked on them painfully, forcing him to get on his feet. Then he dragged
him by his genitals, stumbling and crawling, into the dark forest.
The spot where they have been told by Belinda to bring Michael to was only half
mile away from the road. They had to walk in north/eastern direction for 15 min,
then they would find an old gravestone in the middle of the woods. That was the
place where they had to leave him behind. It took the three men longer to get
there since Jake and Fly constantly had to hit, kick and force Michael to walk
any further. As they finally reached their destination, their victim collapsed
on the damp forest floor and huddled up like a frightened animal, an image that
was intensified by the fact that he couldn't speak and had to whimper in order
to beg for mercy. Michael watched with hollow eyes how Fly flung a piece of rope
over a thick branch and secured one end of it to the stump. Jake walked over to
him, visibly disgusted by the faul and shameless creature he had made him
become. He grabbed his wrists brutally and started to tie them together with the
rope, then he tied up his ankles with another piece of string. He checked if
everything was secured, then he gestured to Fly to string up their victim. A
flash of pain shot through Michael's shoulder blades as the two men raised his
feet high above the ground, making him support his entire bodyweight on his
wrists. He groaned and panted while he blinked his eyes and stared into the far
distance, trying to distract his mind from the burning pain. Never in his entire
life had he thought that it would end like this. He had always hoped that he
would die from old age in his own house, comforted by his future wife and
children. He had feared to die from lungcancer since he used to smoke more then
20 cigarettes a day. But this...this was an utter nightmare. He shivered while
cold mist started to collect over his body. The bundle of cloth stuck in his ass
was soaked with blood and dripped between his legs. He started to cry as Jake
ran his callous fingers across his ass cheeks, almost as tender as a lover. He
didn't want him to touch him. If he had to die at least let him die without the
humiliation of being used by this sadistic man. But it was as if fate kept
playing tricks on him. The sight of his victim hanging there so helplessly was
sending shivers down the spine of his ruthless tormentor. He reached out with
his hand grabbing Michael's genitals and started rubbing his cock. Michael
protested and screamed as he felt two fingers protruding his ass, running across
the new enlarged boundaries. Jake pushed his sweaty face against his groin and
licked the inner parts of his thighs with his rough tongue. Michael shivered all
over his body, he couldn't help it, but the sudden attention around his manhood
after so much suffering caused him to become excited. Jake squeezed his balls
gently while he kept licking him from below. Then, he started to fuck him in his
ass with three, four fingers, which was nothing compared to what Michael had
gone through this evening and the screaming that was accompanied by the first
intrusion was soon replaced by soft groans. Michael was losing his mind, he felt
pleasure and pain wash over his body in successive waves, faster and faster,
till his senses could no longer separate them from each other. He started to
moan as Jake fumbled his dick, squeezing it rhythmically as if he was milking a
cow. His lid got hard and stiff and fluid started to spurt out of it. Jake
observed his victim's state of excitement and grinned maliciously.
"You like this don't you little whore? You like this! Shall I let you come in my
mouth? Hey? Would you like that sissyboy? Tell me, moan for me if you would like
that!"
It was as if he had stepped out of his own body and he was watching somebody
else from a distance, someone low and stupid, someone so weak that it allowed
that black monster to take advantage of his body over and over again. He watched
as the madman opened his wretched mouth and started to moan as horny as a bitch
in heat. It was a deep and primitive sound that could only be produced by a
mindless animal. To that pitiful creature nothing mattered any longer, nothing
made sense anyway. It would just do as it was told since it's own free will was
long since beating into submission. From a far corner of his consciousness, he
could hear the black monster speak to the deranged creature.
"Thought you would like it. Now come to Daddy little sissy boy."
The restrained loon gasped for air in shear pleasure once his erect penis
disappeared into the dark maul of the monster. The black beast was suckling on
it, he sucked the last traces of sanity that was left out of the wriggling
creature. Michael could see how the lunatic reacted. Shamelessly, it rolled it
half-closed eyes back, and stirred by the ecstatic sensations that the monster's
slippery innards caused on his genitals. Although the creature was speechless,
he knew the words that it wanted yell if it had a tongue. It would beg his dark
master for more. More humiliation, more pain, more depraved pleasure to satisfy
its lust. Michael could no longer stand the sight of this despicable creature,
it's actions made him sick. He wanted to run away from this twisted scene and
banish the memory of it to the farthest corners of his consciousness. Instead,
he felt himself pulled towards the disgusting animal, he draw closed and closer
to it while his mind screamed and his non-existing body resisted to be united
with this faul creature, a creature too low to be called a man any longer.
Jake was fully devoted to his task, he enjoyed watching the white boy twist his
body and throw his head back in his neck in perverted pleasure. This was so much
more reassuring to him then the whimpering little pile of misery that he had to
deal with before. He hated it when men behaved like that, they would seem so
fragile and vulnerable. If he hit them like that it felt like hitting a child.
It made him feel guilty, it made him feel bad about himself. But if he could
make them indulge into sexual pleasures with his sadistic little games, if he
could make them scream in terror and moan hungry for his assaults, it would make
him feel better. It would be as if they were provoking him to do these things to
them, that no blame could be laid on his shoulders. If he raped the little
perverted bastards while they were horny like monkeys in heat, he would only be
giving them what they deserved. Steadily, he worked Michael to the point of
climax, he took the white boy's lid in his mouth one more time, ready to pull it
out as soon as the first drop of cum spurted it's way out. He wouldn't let the
little bastard come of course, but he would really enjoy fucking his horny ass
afterwards while the demented slut is desperate to come. He wanted him to beg.
Beg like a mindless slut to get raped by him. That will teach the little worm to
respect him. That will show him his place.
He was surprised to find a warm liquid, too watery to be cum, flooding into his
mouth before he even had time to pull himself away from Michael's groin. He let
the taste of the strange liquid roll over his tongue and swallowed a few drops
before his nostrils recognized the smell of it. Disgusted, he started spitting
and coughing. His lips were clenched tightly together as he pulled himself away
from the urinating penis. The stream hit his face and for a while his dark skin
was covered in yellow urine dripping from the tip of his chin down to the
borders of his shirt. Jake looked up at his so-called victim. He was wearing a
painful grin on his face and chuckled childishly. The little demented fuck had
done this on purpose. He had done this to humiliate him.
Jake's eyes shot daggers while the veins in his neck started to show and his
dark face was pulled together in a terrifying mask. He was a volcano on the brim
of an eruption.
"YOU DEMENTED SLUT!!!!!!!!!!!!"
He grabbed Fly's belt and pulled out the rubber club. With all his brute power,
he smashed it against Michael's shinbones.
"YOU LIKE TO PLAY ROUGH? I WILL PLAY ROUGH WITH YOU!!! YOU SICK LITTLE
BASTARD!!!"
Fly was horrified as he observed how Jake lost his temper and attacked his
victim with the virulence of a raging bull, clenching his fist around the club
so tightly that his white knuckles showed. Each bash on the flesh caused the
white boy's body to fling backwards against the tree like a human boxing-bag,
while his legs were turned into pulp. The worst were the terrifying cries that
came from him, barely human, loud and sharp as the death cries of a wounded
deer. Fly's nervous mind urged him to stop this human turned predator, if he
didn't do anything to stop him, he would surely kill the guy. But his fear for
turning Jake's rage against himself withdrew him from any actions. Silently he
stood there, clenching his fist tensely and blocking his ears from hearing the
pitiful cries of their prisoner. Shit, what if he really kills the guy? Jake is
a fucking idiot, he thinks with his dick while the rest of him is controlled by
his temper. He could get them in serious troubles with this. He didn't want to
go to jail just because mister caveman here was peed on by the little worm. He
had to do something to stop him. Stop it now for fuck's sake...
"Stop it Jake! Stop It! You're killing the little shit! You're killing him!"
But Jake was so absorbed by his rage, he couldn't or didn't want to hear him at
all. He kept smashing his club on Michael's legs. He wanted to make him suffer,
he wanted to torture him till he was ready to rot in hell. He wanted him dead.
Finally Fly's nerves broke down, he flung himself in front of Michael, catching
a brutal hit on his chest from the club. He bend forward as the air was smashed
out of his lungs. The pain surprised him since it was so enormous, it burnt
inside his body and numbed his senses. He sank trough his knees while he held
his hands over his chest and collapsed on the forest floor. How could that
little wimp suffer more then one blow of this and still dare to challenge Jake?
Was he out of his mind? This was more than a man could bear, this was enough to
break a grown man down to a whining child. Still trying to catch his breath he
screamed to Jake, who stood there motionless with the club in his hand like a
comic version of a Victorian picture. If he ever wanted to get the message
through his thick skull, this was the time to do so.
"Jake!....Stop this shit man!..... You're killing him!...... You'll get us into
big troubles with this little piece of shit! Pull yourself together! Stop it!
Stop it now!"
"HE FUCKING PEED ON ME THE SICK SON OF A BITCH!"
"Just leave him alone for fuck's sake.......You've already beaten the shit out
of him. He's more dead then alive! Look at him man! Look at him!"
Jake stared at his victim, he blinked his eyes as if he saw the damage he had
done to the poor man for the first time. Michael's legs were bloodened, swollen
and red. His left shinbone was turned in a weird angle with a frightening bump
sticking through the other side. Veins near the surface of the skin were busted
by the brute assaults. The bandages that had nursed his knees were minced into
the flesh and Jake could clearly distinguish a splintered piece of white bone
sticking through the redness. It was only for the fact that Michael had been
raised too high above to ground for him to brutalize his chest, stomach and head
or he would have surely killed him with the severity of his attack. Jake was
surprised to find his victim to be still conscious, a merciless act of fate,
since the pain must be unbearable by now. Still, this horrifying image didn't
bring up any emotions of compassion in him, he observed the suffering of his
victim as a man watching the news who had just learned about a disaster that had
killed hundreds of people in a colony on mars. It didn't toughed his soul, it
didn't even reached it's front door. But he realized that he couldn't keep
beating the little wimp up. Fly was right, he was more dead then alive already,
it wouldn't take much more to send him six foot under. Still, he wanted to teach
this piece white ass shit a lesson. If he couldn't hurt him physically, he had
to find another way. What was it that his old man used to say? Teach those silly
white boys a lesson when they're disrespectful, calling you nigger and stuff.
Hit them where it hurts the most. Hit them in their weakest spots. And suddenly
it occurred to him. He knew how he could make Michael suffer more then of any of
his physical abuses. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves and looked back at
Fly, giving him a reassuring wink to let him know that he had himself in control
again.
"We're gonna leave you here white boy! I'm not gonna kill you myself. I can let
the sun and the bugs do the job for me."
His voice was deceivingly calm. Almost comforting as if he as talking to a
difficult child that was receiving a mild punishment. He spat on the ground and
rubbed the phlegm into the black soil.
"I know that it's cold now white boy, but it's soon gonna change when the first
sunrays arrives. It's the middle of June you know. If you're lucky, you'll
survive a couple of rainy days but sooner or later the heat kicks in. Our state
is famous for the hot summers you know. Weeks without a single drop of rain."
He paused before he continued and grabbed both Michael's dangling legs, he ran
his fingers over the damaged flesh tenderly, while being careful not to press on
the bruises.
"The sun will burn that white skin of yours into a crispy brown, maybe you'll
get as black as we brothers are. And I bet the bugs will love you. I bet they're
gonna nest in your ass cause it's dark and moist in there. They will crawl
inside your guts and eat you from inside out. You ever watched those
documentaries on Discovery channel? Those damn bugs that lay eggs inside an
animal, and then the maggots get out and eat them self fat while the dumb beast
is still alive? You'll get so much of those bugs inside you that they will come
out of your eyes! And I bet the birds will come. They'll come for the eyes
first. They always come for the eyes first cause it's nice and soft to eat.
Then, when the maggots have eating their way trough your rotten belly, they come
back and rip out your guts. God I would really enjoy watching that..."
He closed his eyes as if he was treasuring the image, his deranged mind running
amok with his sick fantasies. He knew from the yelping sounds coming from his
victim that he was scared, but scared was not enough for him. He wanted him to
be desperate. He wanted to hurt him in his most vulnerable spot. A lie was all
it took to achieve that goal.
"Just as I enjoyed watching that little bitch of yours dying."
Michael startled, the fear that the Jake's words had placed in his heart was
overwhelmed by a wave of emotions; guilt, despair, panic, denial. Most of all
denial. This must be a lie. She couldn't be dead. He must be lying to him.
Michael stared down into the face of his tormentor, something that he had avoid
to do since they had brought him into the woods and had string him up. His eyes
were searching for any sign on that relentless face that could betray his owner
and give away that he was lying. But Jake stared back at him, his face concealed
behind a mask of deceptive sincerity. His lips pulled back over his teeth in a
sadistic grin.
"She's dead white boy! That skinny little bitch was too fragile, couldn't even
stand one blow on the head. But you shouldn't blame Fly for that. If it wasn't
for you, she didn't had to go down the cellar to look for you anyway."
Michael closed his eyes, the words lingered in his mind like a bad record stuck
on a needle. He felt sick, the world turned before his eyes, while his
disbelieve made place for acceptation for this cruel lie.
"You killed her white boy! She didn't have to die if she didn't cared about your
worthless ass."
Pain washed over his body. The image of her tumbling to the floor, her blood
stained hair, her closed eyes and parted lips. She was gone, the sick fuckers
had killed her. And in a way it was indeed his fault, he was responsible for her
death. Guilt and remorse, both more powerful in it's destructive ability then
any physical torture crawled inside his mind. Images, moments, memories of her
flashed before his eyes. Her smile, her lips, her kisses, her warmth, her scent,
her sweet and tender voice. Tears started to welt, a scream burnt inside him and
erupted as he cried out loud over the top of his lungs. He cried till he lost
his mind. He cried till he forgot all about the reason why.
"It's your fault white boy, remember that. She wouldn't have died if it wasn't
for you!"
Jake was content with himself. This was even better then beating the little shit
to death. More then the threats of his approaching and painful death, these
words will be eating him for the rest of his miserable life. He had hit him
where he was most vulnerable, he had hit him right in his heart.
****
The woods were silent except for the singing of birds. The trees were concealed
under a dark blue veil, the colors of an approaching dawn. Cold morning dew that
had collected on his bare skin formed little rivers that streamed down his
shivering body. His mind was slumbering, perhaps keeping him lingering on the
borderline of awareness on purpose in order to protect him from the truth that
had send him into this darkness in the first place. What was that truth? He
tried to recollect his memories. There was something he knew, a knowledge that
will cut through his heart with a blunted knife if he dug it up from the dark
pits of his mind, but was also too important to him to forget. Did he have the
courage to unravel this truth, to learn it for a second time? He moaned softly
and moved his hands, only to find them tied together and stretched above his
head. He was hovering high above the ground. For a short moment, he thought that
he was outside his body again, but the sharp pain cutting through his shoulder
blades as he moved convinced him otherwise. Shreds of memories started to flood
into his mind that was no longer protected by the thick mist of sleep.
They had left him.
They had taken him away from the asylum and had left him in the woods to die.
And they had killed Angelica. They had killed her. Sorrow filled his heart,
making it feel empty and cold. That's what his mind was trying to protect him
from. From the knowledge that she was gone forever. Salt tears started to stream
down his face. She died for him. They killed her cause she cared about him. The
agonizing feeling of guilt jumped out of the chaotic pool of emotions like a
psychotic jack-in-the-box. He had caused her death. Shivering from emotional
shock, he started to sob silently.
The sun appeared above the trees. It filled the pinewood forest with warm
colorful rays of light. The orchestra of birds died away and was replaced by the
humming of insects, announced the beginning of a beautiful summer day. Michael
blinked his eyes, It occurred to him that this was the place where he was going
to spent the last moments of his life. A Sudden ease fell over him. Slowly, he
looked up and took a deep breath to fill his nostrils with the smell of pine. He
resigned with his fate, with the prospect of dying here. The woods were
beautiful, so quiet and peaceful. It was also in some way comforting familiar.
It reminded him of the forests back in Maine where he grew up as a child. And
maybe, if there is still a God out there after all he went through, he would
meet her at the other side. He would then finally be able to shrug off that
terrible feeling of guilt and loneliness that was eating away his soul. But how
many days would it take? How much more does he have to suffer before he was
allowed to find his eternal rest? He remembered Jake's words, about how he would
die of thirst. How his body would be eaten away by birds and bugs. A sarcastic
grin appeared on his face. It wouldn't take more then three or four days of
drought to kill him, but he wouldn't give a rat's ass about what happened to his
corpse afterwards. A mental picture appeared before his eyes, where he saw his
rotten corpse dangling from the tree that supported him, while squirrels were
nesting inside his ass. He giggled childishly, he just could picture those
little rats, picking up nuts from the forest floor and storing it inside
asshole. Stupid and idiotic, but then again, his life so far seemed to be one
sick joke. At least they had the decency to give me a headstone, he thought as
he observed the moss covered gravestone that stood a couple of feet away from
him. Although it would have been nicer if they had also buried me underneath it
instead of letting me dangle six feet above. Another giggle escaped his lips, He
couldn't help it. The sudden awareness of the absurdity of his fate had struck a
strange inner chord. He tried to press his lips together to withhold himself
from bursting into laughter like naughty school boy trying to keep in his
chuckling while pulling a prank on the teacher. I'm losing my mind, he thought,
I will die as a giggling senile bastard strapped to a tree while pissing all
over myself. And with that mental image popping up in his head, he couldn't hold
himself in any longer. He burst into mad kind of laughter, loud enough to
startle the birds hidden in the trees and made them flee in flocks.
On the other side of the woods, Nero was leading the pack across a small stream
when he was the first to pick up the scent. The tall Doberman pointed his wet
nose high into the air. He recognized it. It was the scent that they had been
searching for. He had lead the group wandering around in the woods all morning,
trying to pick up traces of the right odor. The pack had been restless,
especially the young Beagle with the dark spot over his right eye. When he and
the rest of the group was searching the damp forest floor for fresh tracks, the
young brat ran off to chase a stupid chipmunk. He had to bark and bite to force
him back into the group. He couldn't understand why their Lady was ever so
careless to include the brainless thug into the group. Still irritated by the
events of the morning, he snarled at the young male, showing his teeth while he
raised his tail high above the ground. Better let him know that he didn't want
him to mess things up now that he had finally found a trail. The rest of the
dogs were also alert by know, driven mad of craving by the rich sweet musky
smell that their Lady had trained them to recognize. It also made them nervous
since a second scent, equally strong as the first, was mixed into it and was
coming from the same direction. It was the smell of blood; human blood and it
awakened their predator's instincts. Nero knew that his pack was anxious to go.
All they were waiting for was a signal from their leader. He groaned and turned
around while wagging his tail. Suddenly, he took off, tailed by the whole pack
of hounds behind him. They vanished into the thick foliage of the forest.
Michael couldn't remember when he stopped laughing, he couldn't remember when
the sadness and cruelty of his life stopped amusing his sarcasm. He just found
himself silent for a moment when he heard rustling down in the bushes. First he
thought that it was a deer or a rabbit, but then he heard the barking of dogs.
Large dogs. His heart skipped a beat as he realized that they were roaming into
his direction. Michael had never been afraid of dogs. When he was a young boy,
his parents had given him a puppy for his ninth birthday. He had named him
Snowball, since his fur was as white as snow. The little fellow kept his company
and was his best friend till he died of old age eight years later. Since then he
had never kept another pet for the reason that he didn't want to get attached to
an animal that could only be with him for such a short time. He was heartbroken
when Snowball died, and he didn't want to go through that ever again. However,
the dogs that where approaching now, were by no means evoking any sentimental
feelings in him. The fact that he was dangling helplessly from a tree while his
body was stained with the smell of blood made him aware of how dangerous the
presence of a pack of hungry stray-dogs could be. With a shaking voice, he tried
to scare them away by screaming, but the dogs seemed not to be intimidated by
him at all. Au contrary, it even made them ran faster into his direction. From
the corner of his eyes, Michael could see a dark snout sticking trough the
ferns. Then, a fierce looking animal appeared, his black coat shiny with
collected dew. His ears were pulled flat against his neck and his back was
hunched as it first set eyes on him. Immediately it started barking loudly while
threatening its victim with mock attacks. Michael was getting scared. That dog
was huge and he knew from its body language that it was not afraid of him. It
was aggressive and excited, as if it was a wolf hunting down its prey. More dogs
emerged from the thick foliage of ferns. There were five of them, two Beagels
and three Dobermans. Only the first one had a collar round his neck. A spark of
hope lit up in his dark despair. He realized that the dogs were not hungry
stray-dogs roaming the countryside, but runaway pets owned by somebody cause
their fur was well kept and they didn't show any sign of mall-nourishment. There
was a chance that he could be rescued if the owner of these dogs was still
looking for them. That was, at least, if the dogs didn't dig their sharp teeth
into him before he was found.
The big dark Doberman that had emerged first out of the bushes was circling
around him while the other dogs were barking madly. Suddenly, it jumped up and
snapped at his legs. He reacted just in time and the dog missed. Furiously, the
animal pulled back his upper lip and showed its teeth while growling at him.
Then, as if given an invisible sign by their leader, all the other dogs flew at
his legs from what seemed like every direction. Michael cried out in fear as he
was forced to pull his legs up against his buttocks to keep them safe from those
snapping jaws. It amazed him that the even the Beagles were capable of jumping
so high. The little bastards took off from the ground like miniature rockets and
he could feel their hot breath on his the back of his feet. Their vicious attack
lasted for a long time, tiring out poor Michael who was getting exhausted from
keeping his legs pulled up. His muscles became soar and the bending of his knees
was extremely painful since it ruptured his old wounds. Sooner or later he would
have to let his legs down again, risking them being torn from his body by the
mad drooling beasts.
After hours of fear and exhaustion, Michael couldn't hold his tense position
much longer. He lowered his legs shakily in order to allow some of his muscles
to rest. One Doberman snapped at his feet and missed, leaving a splash of warm
slaver behind. He screamed as another attacker missed his heel by an inch and
pulled up his feet up again on impulse. Michael had hoped that the dogs would
eventually get tired and stop their assaults, allowing him time to regain some
of his strength. But to his amazement, the animals seemed to have considered
that possibility, and took turns in snapping at his legs while the tired ones
rest in the shadow under the trees. When the day finally drew to an end and
darkness fell, Michael could only hope that they would at least leave him alone
for the night. He was absolutely terrified since he could not see them in the
darkness except for their sinister predatory eyes reflecting the moonlight. But
the ruthless beast kept circling beneath him, threatening, barking and biting.
Michael was very tired, his leg muscles were spasming and tears of frustration
were running down his sweat worn face. Why wouldn't they just leave him alone?
Why on earth did he deserve this horrible death? He closed his eyes while he
considered lowering one of his legs, sacrificing a limp in order to get the rest
his body was craving for. The idea was ridiculous but he was on his last feet,
he couldn't hold on much longer. His fatigue was winning from his fear. He let
go of his legs, relaxing every burning muscle in his body, and for a moment his
limps were dangling in the air, free for the dogs to snap at. A sharp sting cut
trough him as the first of the dark creatures with bright reflecting eyes took
hold of his right leg. With a monstrous strength, it pulled on it, almost
removing the leg from its base. Michael arched his back in agony and swung his
legs back to get the animal off him. The creature was flung against the trunk of
the tree. It let go of him and yelped as it hit the ground. Michael was still
trying to deal with the pain of the first assault, when a second set of teeth
penetrated his bleeding leg. Then a third creature grab hold on his foot, and
made him howl as it crushed his footbones while ripping off his toes. Frightened
out his mind, Michael tried to pull up his legs again, but it was already too
late. The dogs turned wolfs wouldn't let their prey go. More sharp teeth dug
into his flesh, intensifying his pain till it cut trough his whole body. His mad
cries for help ripped trough the silence of the night, while the terrifying
barking and growling of the animals were ringing in his ears and fed his fear.
He felt how rips of flesh were torn away from his limps, how his bones
splintered between their jaws and how his blood flooded out of his body. They
were tearing him apart while he was still alive.
A gunshot exploded. The animals startled as from the shadows of the woods three
dark figures emerged. Three man, dressed in monk's habits, their faces covered
with shadows cast by the cowls they were wearing. The dogs were frightened and
jumped back, folding their tails between their legs and yelping anxiously. They
knew what was coming now, they experienced this dozen of times since they were
trained to locate and hunt down prey that they found on their Lady's territory.
But still, this part of the hunt was frustrating for them, having to leave their
price to these men. Nero, still excited by the smell of Michael's blood in his
nose, tried to scare off the men by showing his teeth, but one of them carrying
the firestick raised his feet and kicked Nero on his snout.
"Back off dumb beast, get away from him."
The Doberman yelped and ran away. He knew that the men were not afraid of him
like the man who was dangling from the tree. He couldn't smell their fear.
Frustrated, he joined his pack and sat down under a bush while carefully
watching the strange men doing their duty for their Lady.
Michael felt a pair of hands touching his cold skin, grabbing hold of his waist.
He writhed and uttered muffled sounds of distress. His pain intoxicated mind
begged the invisible hands to leave him be. He knew that he would die if the
strangers would leave him here for the dogs to feast on, but he was scared. But
then a warm blanket was wrapped around his shivering body, and a tender voice
spoke to him.
"Ssst, don't be afraid now, everything's alright. You're safe with us."
Michael choked on his tears, the hands raised his body from his restrains to
relief his bleeding wrists and cut him lose. He fell weak and half-unconscious
in the arms of his saviors. They brought him on the back of a carriage and laid
his broken body on a soft pile of hay. Michael was still crying, he panted while
he kept uttering pitiful sounds. One of the monks sat beside him and tugged him
in with another blanket. Michael could see a friendly smile appear on the old
man's face when he came close and touched his cold forehead to comfort him.
"You're safe now lad, don't worry. We will take good care of you."
The carriage started to move as the driver on the box urged the horses to get
into full gallop, making the canvas spun above the back of the carriage swung
heavily. The monk was trying to tend some of Michael's most serious wounds. He
wrapped his feet in thick cloths of linen to stop him from bleeding. The dogs
had bitten off two of his toes, a third might have to be amputated. His shinbone
appeared to be broken on multiple places and splinters of bone were sticking
through his skin. The poor lad might lose his whole right leg if they didn't get
to the monastery in time to give him much needed medical attention. The old man
shook his head disapprovingly. This was not going to please the Mistress. They
were too late with finding him and pulling back the dogs. If the lad was going
to be handicapped because of this incident, his potential value for the Mistress
would drop severely. He wouldn't be profitable to be saved and the Mistress
might even consider of disposing him before he had any chance to recover. The
old man felt sorry for the lad. Although he had done his duty to the Mistress
for a long time now, he still couldn't deal with all of her cruelties. Silently,
he prayed to the Lord to protect the young lad, to keep him save. This was all
he could do for him beside from stretching his life for the very moment.
Back in the woods, the two monks who had stayed behind gathered the dogs
together. The man who had been carrying the gun put a leash on Nero's collar
while scratching the animal behind its ears.
"I'm sorry that I hit you my old friend. You've done your job well. It's our
fault that we didn't arrive in time. Don't hold a grudge."
Nero yelped and licked the man's face. All was forgiven. The monk smiled and
petted the animal's head.
"You and your friends are going to get a well deserved meal when we get home."
Happily, Nero looked up at the man and wagged his tail. The monk got up and
tugged gently on Nero's leash, ordering him to follow. Nero stepped calmly
beside him and the other dogs followed silently as they walked their way back to
the monastery.
