946 lines
44 KiB
Plaintext
946 lines
44 KiB
Plaintext
"UNLUCKY NUMBER 13"
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By: Thunder
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Contributions and Editing By Sammy Smegma
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Craig Sommers was not looking forward to school. It
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was hard to look forward to something you hated with a
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passion.
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It wasn't the schoolwork or the teachers -- Craig was
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bright, and he did O.K. (he knew he could do better if he
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tried, but chose not to -- and after all, why should he?),
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and the teachers were O.K., too. It was all the other kids
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that bothered him.
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Craig was not like other boys. When he was very
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little, he had been very ill, and thanks to this had
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unluckily been misdiagnosed as retarded. In fact, he was
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nothing of the kind -- if anything, quite the reverse --
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but by the time anyone had managed to figure that out, he
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had been placed with numerous "rehabilitation centers" and
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special classes throughout his brief childhood, and from
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these he had gained a totally undeserved reputation for
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mental retardation. It settled around him like a blanket;
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no matter where he went, kids picked on him and called
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him "weirdo" or "retart" until there was scarcely a day
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when he didn't run home after school, lock himself in his
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room, and cry himself to sleep.
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These experiences had had a profound impact on Craig's
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personality. He was introverted and philosophical, and his
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long experience with the cruelty of others had taught him
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to be stoical in the face of pain and torment. In all, he
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had seen more cruelty and injustice than most adults would
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ever know in a lifetime, and this had taken a heavy toll;
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despite his age -- he was only eleven -- he was the
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youngest patient ever to be treated at the local mental
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health center for clinical depresion. His parents tried to
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help, of course, but how much could they actually do?
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Craig was, quite understandably, a loner. Not that he
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was shy -- he was quite comfortable around adults, who
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were more apt to accept him at face value -- but he was
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careful to avoid any contact with other children. When in
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school, he studied alone, ate his lunch alone, and he
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played alone -- preferably out of sight of the others.
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Craig hated his present existence; he didn't want to
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be called weird anymore, and he had long ago become
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bittely weary of being constantly picked on.
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And today especially, of all days. Rising out of bed
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and dressing, he saw it was gorgeous day outside, warm and
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sunny. The sky overhead was a bright blue; he could hear
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the birds singing outside his window. It was late spring,
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and one of the first nice days to come along all season.
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Craig decided right then and there that he was NOT
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going to go to school that day. He'd play hooky instead,
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go off and have some fun. Enjoy the nice weather and feel
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HAPPY for a change, instead of feeling sick all over at the
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idea of going to school and having -- yet again -- to endure
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the constant taunts and jibes of classmates who didn't know
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half of what he did, and didn't care anyway.
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As excellent as this idea was, however, there were
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problems with it. The biggest one was that your choice of
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destination was decidedly limited -- you couldn't go "Just
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Any Old Where", you see, because if you chanced to meet
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anyone you knew, you could wind up in a helluvah lot of
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trouble. Fortunately, there was a solution -- the old
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factory at the edge of town.
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The factory had long ago shut down, the heavy equipment
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removed, leaving only an empty shell that was also the ideal
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place to play. Even though the town council had ordered it
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locked up long ago, somebody had broken the lock at some
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point, and the place had become a haven for kids to play in,
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despite the warnings of their parents about how dangerous it
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was.
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With this in mind, Craig went to breakfast, ate, kissed
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Mom good-bye, and left. Only instead of heading toward school,
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he headed toward the old plant, and a day of games and fun
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and...
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His worst nightmare!
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xxx
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Mike DeBassi felt rather tense today -- then again, when
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didn't he anymore? Traveling as often as he did, eating in
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roadside diners and sleeping in lumpy motel beds was enough
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to make anybody tense.
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At least, he hoped, he'd find what he was looking for
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here.
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To look at Mike, you wouldn't have thought him anything
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more than an average Joe, the guy next door. He was always
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neat and clean, his face always shaved, his hair always
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neatly cut. He never wore anything ragged or dirty, and he
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was incessantly polite. It was, in short, the perfect
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disguise...
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Because underneath it all, he was a rabid, sadistic
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pedophile with a taste for little boys.
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Mike wasn't like other pedophiles, mind you. He didn't
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"love" little boys... rather, he loved hurting them! It was
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such great fun to him to rape and torture a young boy, then
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to watch them slowly die, rather than to teach them "soft"
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sex, which he personally found quite repulsive.
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Town after town, Mike rarely failed to find a boy to
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please him. He wasn't choosy -- any old boy he could get his
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hands on would do. It wasn't so much the sex he enjoyed as
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it was the pain, the domination, the sheer pleasure of
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having control over such young, innocent and quite helpless
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lives! So it didn't much matter what they looked like or who
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they were; still, the better they looked to him, the more he
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enjoyed what he did.
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The town he'd come to recently was like so many
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others -- quiet, small, the kind of place people didn't
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lock their doors, where everyone knew everyone, whatever.
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What HE liked about it were the kids -- they were all over!
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And most of the time, he'd noticed, they seemed attracted to
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one particular place...
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It was an abandoned factory toward the edge of town,
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the kind of place that attracted kids like a magnet. Big,
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empty and old, it was ideal for games like War or Cops and
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Robbers, a perfect place to play Hide and Seek.
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Over the past weekend, he'd watched the place
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carefully, hoping for an opportunity. Unfortunately, the
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few kids he did see go in there were mostly in groups,
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which left him feeling quite disappointed and only served
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to heighten his agressions.
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Luck, however, was with him Monday morning.
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He'd been hiding nearby, scoping the place out, when he
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saw a boy come wandering along.
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He was a small kid, maybe four and a half feet, but not
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quite five feet, tall. He wore a blue plaid button down
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shirt that hung out over his belt (it looked to be a
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hand-me-down, a bit big on him), and well fitting, slightly
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faded jeans that looked to have seen a lot of use; the
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ground-in dirt on the knees was all too apparent. His shoes
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were plain, black basketball sneakers with dirty white laces.
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Despite the loose fitting clothes, which were obviously too
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big for him, he looked thin. Not concentration camp
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survivor thin, but skinny, with just enough meat on his
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bones to look healthy. Short, straight, sandy blonde hair,
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and the brightest blue eyes Mike had ever seen, standing out
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against the kid's light complexion, which in turn was dotted
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with a good smattering of freckles. Beyond that, his face
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was pretty much average, average nose, average mouth, but it
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might as well have been the face of an angel to Mike.
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He was carrying schoolbooks, Mike saw, but he obviously
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wasn't going to school! Instead, the boy looked around and
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hurried into the old plant.
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"Playing hooky, eh?", Mike said to himself, his hard
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cock forming a tent in his pants. "Wonder what your Mom
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and Dad would say about that!"
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Chuckling to himself, Mike stepped out of his hiding
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place and looked around, making sure nobody saw him. Seeing
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nobody else, he snuck up to the partly open door to the
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plant and peered inside.
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The kid had tossed his schoolbooks aside and was
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running around, ducking behind I-beams, like he was hiding
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from something; some sort of game, Mike decided. Good, he
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thought, let him play -- it'll give me time to get ready...
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and then he'd give him a REAL game to Play!
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He ducked away and ran back to his car, hidden behind
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some trees near the plant. Already he had a plan in mind,
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one that had worked for him before. Shedding his own jeans
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and flannel shirt, he pulled on a pair of blue pants and a blue
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shirt -- actually a uniform from a service station he'd worked
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at once -- from a duffel bag on the back seat and put them on.
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He moved quickly, lest he lose his chance. Then, from the
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duffel bag, he removed an old police badge he'd picked up in a
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pawn shop once. The thing was old, probably something a
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boozing cop or an old widow had sold for a few bucks.
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Nonetheless, it served a purpose.
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Now dressed, he grabbed up the duffel bag and headed
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back to the plant, peeking inside. The boy was on his knees
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now, drawing in the dirt with a piece of wood. Stepping back
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quietly, Mike shoved the duffel into some bushes and
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prepared himself, putting on his best Look of Authority.
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The kid would never know what hit him.
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xxx
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Craig didn't see the man right away. He was busy
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playing, pretending he was exploring the surface of Venus,
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that the huge plant was a Venusian cave. Running to and
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fro, he almost jumped out of his skin when the man called out
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to him. He stopped dead in his tracks.
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"Hold it right there, mister! You're are in a lot of
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trouble, young man!"
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Craig turned slowly, spotting the man standing in the
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doorway. Uh-oh, he thought, caught!
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The man was neatly dressed; his hair was cut short,
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almost a crew cut, his face was clean shaven. He wore what
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to Craig looked like some kind of police uniform; it was all
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blue, pants and shirt, and he had a badge tacked to the left
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side of his shirt.
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Craig swallowed hard. Was he in some kind of trouble?
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Likely he was! The man strode up to him, a very stern look
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on his face. "This building has been condemned by the town
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council", the man spoke, his voice echoing throughout the
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room. "And on top of that, why aren't you in school?"
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Craig swallowed hard again. His mother would kill him!
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Still, he stood his ground, trying very hard to
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think of a way out of this.
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"Um, are you a cop?", he asked. "If you're a cop,
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where's your gun?"
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"I'm not a cop", the man told him. "I'm a Building
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Inspector. I'm with the Fire Department. I saw you come in
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here and believe me, you're in big trouble, mister. What's
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your name?"
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"Craig Sommers, sir", Craig answered.
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The man stared at him, his face expressionless. "How
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old are you, Craig Sommers?"
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"Eleven, sir."
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The man smiled. It wasn't a normal smile, not a fond
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one or a friendly one, but kind of a leer, one that sent
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chills down Craig's spine.
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"You're in a lot of trouble, Craig Sommers", the man
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said, more quietly this time, almost a whisper, "and believe
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me kid, you don't know how much."
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Craig started to back up right then, but he was just a
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hair's breadth too late. The man grabbed the boy's slender
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shoulders and spun him around, clamping one hand over his
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mouth before he could cry out. Shoving Craig to the floor,
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the man pressed one knee into his back, keeping his hand
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firmly over Craig's mouth.
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"Now you listen up, Craig Sommers! You're going to do
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what you're told and not give me even a bit of trouble, you
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got that? If you do, I'll hurt you so bad you'll wish you
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were dead!"
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The threat was enough to make Craig freeze. Inwardly,
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he groaned. "No. PLEASE tell me this ISN'T happening", he
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thought to himself. The man's hand came away from his mouth,
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but Craig made no attempt to scream -- especially not with
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the man still on top of him!
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"Give me your hands, Craig", the man ordered, even as
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he was pulling Craig's hands together behind him. He felt
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something being wrapped around his wrists, something rough
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and scratchy -- rope, apparently.
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"I like little boys, Craig", the man sneered, twisting
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Craig's head to the side and stuffing a balled up wad of
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cloth in his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye Craig saw
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the man withdraw a kerchief, which he tied over Craig's
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mouth, keeping the other wad in. "I like to hear them
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scream and cry, you know that? Little boys scream and cry a
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lot when I fuck them in the ass. I'm gonna fuck your ass,
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Craig. I'll bet it's a TIGHT ass, and it's gonna hurt a lot
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when I fuck it. And you know what, Craig? And that's not ALL
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I'm gonna do, either!"
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Inside, Craig writhed at the unfairness of it all.
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He had seen plenty of television newscasts concerning the
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sex murders of young children: kids who had been kidnapped,
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stripped stark naked, beaten, raped, killed -- and sometimes
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even worse things! -- and Craig was plenty bright enough to
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realize that something rather like this was now happening to
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HIM! He had no real ground for complaint -- he was, after all,
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here by choice (although if he had known that THIS was going
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to happen to him, he would most certainly have chosen to go
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elsewhere). If nothing else, it meant an end to a thoroughly
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miserable existence. He DID hope that he could face up to his
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death bravely, and not give this pervert any enjoyment out of
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his dying; and he deeply regretted the agony which he knew
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his mother and father were bound to suffer from his murder.
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In thinking all of this, Craig could not help but give vent
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to a deep-felt, soul-wrenching sigh, which his captor either
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failed to hear, or else ignored completely.
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The man hauled Craig to his feet and, holding his arm,
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pushed him, half-stumbling, deeper into the old plant.
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"Yessiree, Craig, I'm going to have a fucking ball with you.
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It gives me a real fuckin' kick, you know? I just love raping
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cute little kids like you. It's Fun." He gave Craig a shake.
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"That scare ya, huh? Does it?" He laughed. "If it don't,
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I got some real surprises in store for ya, Craig. And
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they WILL scare ya!"
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He stopped then, turning Craig toward what had once
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been an office back when the plant was in operation. Pushing
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the boy ahead of him inside, he pushed the sagging wooden
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door closed as far as it would go and turned Craig to face
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him.
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The office was bare, outside of an overturned wooden
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milk crate in one corner and some old papers. The man
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pushed Craig over to the wooden crate and told him to stand,
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while the man himself sat down, positioning Craig in front
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of him.
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"Well now, let's see the goods, shall we?", the man
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laughed, undoing Craig's belt and the snaps on his pants,
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finally pulling them down his legs to his ankles. He
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ordered Craig to step out of them, then took off the boy's
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underwear next.
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"Huh! Not much, guess you ain't seen puberty yet!", the
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man laughed. "Well, consider this a crash course!" He
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cupped his hand under Craig's balls, rubbing them; then, for
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no reason at all, he suddenly grabbed them and squeezed!
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Craig screamed into his gag at the sudden shock of pain
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and collapsed, the man's hand still firmly clenching his
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balls. As soon as the boy hit the ground the man let go of
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his nuts and Craig fell back, his head bouncing painfully
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off the concrete. Before he knew it the man was over him,
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straddling him, then sitting on his chest.
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"Woowee yeah!", the man yelled, his face flushed with
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excitement. He pulled something out of his pocket -- it
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looked like a length of wire to Craig -- and leaned forward.
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Craig felt the man's fingers stroking his little penis,
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which, in spite of the pain he still felt, got hard very
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quickly. Then he felt something else, something slightly
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cool, being wrapped around it, tighter and tighter...
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Craig let out a little gasp as the wire, which he was
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sure it was, pinched a little skin on his cock as it grew
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tighter. He could feel the man twisting it, twisting until
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it was like a steel band, with a slightly worse, more
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annoying sting where it had caught the bit of skin, wrapped
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around his cock!
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The man stood up, and Craig could see it now, wrapped
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around the base of his penis so tightly that everything
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above it was engorged. The skin there was turning red
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already, all the blood suffused into it...
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"Does that hurt, Craig? Does it? YOu gonna cry for me,
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Craig?", the man teased, making crying faces at him. Craig
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bit down and refused to cry. He didn't want to give the man
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the satisfaction of seeing his pain. If he was going to
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die, he at least wanted to die bravely!
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The man looked angry. "Don't wanna cry, huh? Well,I
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think you will!" Grabbing the boy's ankles, he lifted them
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and pulled off his shoes, then his blue socks, tossing them
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toward the door. He fumbled in his pockets and cursed
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angrily, as if he were missing something.
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"UNLUCKY NUMBER 13"
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By: Thunder
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Contributions and Editing By Sammy Smegma
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Part 2 of 2
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Then he turned and scooped up Craig's pants, going
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through each pocket, dumping things out -- a cheap brown
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plastic wallet with raised tooling showing cowboy motifs,
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which he opened. "Two bucks and nineteen cents", the man
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muttered, pocketing the money. "Lot of money, eh, kid?" He
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pulled out Craig's library card next. "Craig Sommers, yeah,
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that's you!" That he tossed aside, and finally, Craig's "In
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Case of Emergency Notify" card. "Well now, this is
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pertinent, isn't it? Let's see, I guess I ought to call
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your Mom, Betty Sommers -- your Mom's name sucks, kid!", he
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bellowed, "and tell her little Craig's been kidnapped? Yeah,
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maybe I should!" He laughed and tossed that aside, as well.
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The last thing he took out was something Craig was
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proud of, a membership card to the Smile n' Sales Leadership
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Club. Craig had gotten it just before last Christmas. Smiles
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n' Sales was a Club that went door to door selling greeting
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cards; Craig had sold the most last Christmas and had won a
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$25 savings bond for his efforts. All that meant nothing
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now, as the man ripped the card in half and tossed it to the
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floor.
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"Sure got a lot of junk in here, kid", he muttered.
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"Worse than me."
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Shoving his hand into another pocket, he pulled out
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the rest of what Craig normally carried -- a plain black comb
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(his mother insisted he keep his hair neat -- wouldn't she be
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mad now!), some pens, "Hey, I can use these", the man said,
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and a keypouch. The man examined these, then tossed them
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aside and swore loudly.
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"Nothing but a lot of junk", hissed. "Fuck, kid, don't
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you got a yo-yo or something?" When Craig didn't respond he
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shook his head angrily and scowled at the boy.
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The pockets emptied, he threw the pants aside, then
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seemed to get an idea and picked them up again. "Yeah,
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this'll do", he said, pulling Craig's belt off. Grabbing
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the boy's ankles again, he wrapped the belt around them and
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cinched it. "There. Now stay put, the fun's just begun!",
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he laughed, and dashed out of the office, leaving Craig
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alone with his pain and misery.
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xxx
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Mike's head was pounding, his heart racing like it
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always did whenever he had a little boy. He ran back to
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the entrance, scooping up his bag of goodies from where he'd
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left them, and ran back inside.
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He was gone only about two minutes; yet to Mike's
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amazement, he found Craig there, hopping slowly and
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precariously along on his two bound feet towards the rear
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of the building! Mike just stood there, watching in surprise
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for a moment, then walked over towards the fleeing boy.
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Craig heard him -- he turned and glanced over his
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shoulder, a look of anguish on his face; then he began
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hopping faster. Too fast: he lost his balance and fell to
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the floor with a plop. Mike went over and hauled him up by
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the arm. "Sorry, Craig", Mike said. "but I'll have to admit
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it was a nice try." He returned Craid to the office and
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lowered him to the floor.
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Craig lay where he'd been put, struggling a bit, but
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still not crying. He did look scared to death, and the pain
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from his bound penis -- which was now getting even darker in
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color -- was showing on his face. Mike knew it would be just
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a matter of time before the kid cracked -- they always did!
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Dropping down next to the kid, Mike slipped an arm
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around Craig's shoulders and sat him up. The boy was nude
|
|
except for his shirt; Mike had deliberately saved that for
|
|
last. "That's a nice shirt, Craig", he cooed, carefully
|
|
undoing one button and slipping his hand inside. "Mmm,
|
|
nice, smooth little boy chest. I like that." He slid his
|
|
tongue along one side of Craig's neck. "Mmm... little boy.
|
|
A little dirty, but tasty." He continued to lick and kiss
|
|
Craig's neck for several minutes, his hand under Craig's
|
|
shirt pinching and caressing the boy's nipples. One by one,
|
|
he undid each shirt button, moving his hand lower and lower
|
|
each time, then he leaned Craig back and began to kiss his
|
|
chest, licking at his bare skin as he undid each button
|
|
slowly.
|
|
|
|
He pulled the shirt open finally, exposing Craig's
|
|
naked little body. It was a nice body, in Mike's opinion,
|
|
not fat but not horribly thin, either -- just right. He had
|
|
an "outie" belly button, which Mike thought was pretty cute.
|
|
"Hey, look at that, a baby hardon!", Mike laughed, kissing
|
|
the little outie belly button, licking it with his tongue.
|
|
He could feel Craig shiver -- with revulsion or fear, he
|
|
didn't know or care which -- and raised his face, grinning
|
|
at the boy.
|
|
|
|
"Ready to have some fun, Craig?"
|
|
|
|
Wrapping his arms around the boy, Mike climbed on top
|
|
of him and sealed his mouth over Craig's lips, kissing him
|
|
deeply. He held the kiss a long time, his tongue shoving
|
|
into Craig's mouth and rasping over the boy's tongue. Craig
|
|
squirmed a bit, but couldn't dislodge him.
|
|
|
|
He drew away, smiling at the boy. "You liked that,
|
|
didn't you Craig? You want some more, huh?"
|
|
|
|
He flipped the boy over then, pinning him with one knee
|
|
as he undid the rope on the boy's wrists. Grasping the
|
|
collar of Craig's shirt he yanked on it, nearly pulling the
|
|
boy's arms out of his sockets in an effort to get it off. As
|
|
it came free Craig tried to move his arms forward -- trying to
|
|
escape, perhaps? -- but Mike was too fast. He caught the
|
|
boy's wrists and quickly re-bound them.
|
|
|
|
"Nice try again, but no escape for you, Craig!", Mike
|
|
laughed, and realizing suddenly what position he had the boy
|
|
in, pressed his knee into Craig's buttocks. The boy let out a
|
|
sharp gasp as his sore, engorged penis was ground against the
|
|
cold, hard concrete floor, coupled now with the pain of Mike's
|
|
knee against his ass!
|
|
|
|
It was all too much for Mike. The boy was squirming
|
|
furiously -- hurting himself even worse, no less -- but still
|
|
not crying; yet the sight and feel of it was getting to him.
|
|
Keeping Craig pinned down, he yanked down his own pants and
|
|
underwear, his massive hardon springing out of its cotton
|
|
prison.
|
|
|
|
Mike slid his hands over the youngster's naked body,
|
|
his fingers kneeding the soft young flesh. Craig lay
|
|
squirming, still trying to relieve the pain in his engorged
|
|
penis where it grated against the hard concrete.
|
|
|
|
Wrapping his arms around Craig's waist, Mike hoisted
|
|
the boy up, pushing his knees under him so his ass was now
|
|
spread nice and wide, ready for entry...
|
|
|
|
xxx
|
|
|
|
Bent over, his face shoved into the floor, his
|
|
abductor's arms wrapped firmly around his small waist, Craig
|
|
could could only grit his teeth and bear down as the man
|
|
shoved his cock up inside his buttocks and asshole. Burning
|
|
pain filled Craig's rectum as the huge, fleshy member pushed
|
|
in, parting the constricting walls of his anus like a
|
|
missile boring into him.
|
|
|
|
xxx
|
|
|
|
Despite the pain, Craig refused to give in, to scream
|
|
or cry, even as the man's huge cock pushed into his abdomen,
|
|
each thrust burning and tearing and pounding hard at his
|
|
insides. Craig's own little cock ached beyond all belief,
|
|
constricted as it was by the wire wrapped so tightly around
|
|
it. The little bit of flesh that had gotten caught up in
|
|
the twist of wire was really stinging badly; indeed, Craig
|
|
couldn't decide which hurt more. Yet he would not give in!
|
|
|
|
"Oh yeah, oh yeah kid great fucking ass!", his rapist
|
|
moaned, his voice more of a thick grunt than a man's voice
|
|
now.
|
|
|
|
Suddenly, the man stopped, thrusting forward in one
|
|
great big heave. Craig could feel his attacker's cock
|
|
pulsing inside of him, could feel something thick and warm
|
|
pouring out into his intestines. For what felt like hours
|
|
the man just stayed there, then slowly withdrew, his cock
|
|
coming free with a soft pop!
|
|
|
|
"Wow", the rapist breathed. "Nice ass!"
|
|
|
|
The man lifted Craig up then and sat him back down on
|
|
the crate. Craig squirmed and whimpered a bit, his sore,
|
|
bare ass none to comfortable against the crate's rough wood
|
|
surface, especially after the ass pounding he'd just been
|
|
given!
|
|
|
|
For the first time, Craig got a good, hard look at the
|
|
man's huge cock. Craig had seen one before when he'd
|
|
accidentally saw his father coming out of the shower, but
|
|
this one was so much BIGGER and THICKER!
|
|
|
|
"Like it?", the man asked, pulling the boy's gag down
|
|
and tossing aside the wad of cloth in Craig's mouth. "All
|
|
for you, Craigy!"
|
|
|
|
"Open up, Craig", the man ordered, grabbing both sides
|
|
of the boy's head in his hands, holding it firmly.
|
|
|
|
"No, please, I can't, apfph--"
|
|
|
|
Craig gagged as the huge member was shoved into his
|
|
mouth, nearly into his throat. "If you even consider biting
|
|
me", Mike snapped, "I'll rip out every fucking tooth in your
|
|
head!"
|
|
|
|
Holding the boy's head firmly in his hands, Mike began
|
|
to jerk his head back and forth, the boy's lips wrapped
|
|
around his cock forming their own little suction seal and
|
|
driving him wild. Craig was pleading with his eyes, a sight
|
|
that nearly made Mike come instantly. Somehow, he held out.
|
|
|
|
xxx
|
|
|
|
Craig was hardly able to breathe with the man's penis
|
|
sawing in and out of his throat. He choked and gagged and
|
|
felt vaguely sick, but he couldn't do anything about it. He
|
|
started to get dizzy from lack of oxygen and might have
|
|
passed out had the man not suddenly stopped, and a warm,
|
|
thick stream began to shoot into the back of Craig's throat.
|
|
The boy choked and swallowed, having no other choice but to
|
|
do what he was made to do.
|
|
|
|
Finally the man pulled out and Craig began to gasp,
|
|
taking in huge gulps of air. He very much wanted to cry
|
|
then; he hoped it was all over.
|
|
|
|
It wasn't.
|
|
|
|
xxx
|
|
|
|
Mike pulled his cock free of Craig's mouth and stuffed
|
|
it back in his pants. "Not bad for your first time", he
|
|
told Craig, pulling the boy off the crate and sitting down
|
|
next to him, then lowering him back to the floor.
|
|
|
|
"Please, no more", Craig pleaded quietly. "Just let me go,
|
|
please, I won't tell. Don't hurt me anymore. Please don't
|
|
kill me."
|
|
|
|
"Maybe I won't kill you", Mike teased.
|
|
|
|
As encouraging as this sounded, Craig didn't believe it
|
|
for an instant. And, if this man DID kill him, waht then?
|
|
Would he hide or bury his body? Craig had seen many television
|
|
specials about missing children; he knew that if his body
|
|
were to be concealed, the odds of anyone finding it would be
|
|
remote. His parents could spend the rest of their lives looking
|
|
for him, and never find him! It was not to be thought of.
|
|
"Please, oh please", he said, "if you MUST kill me, at least
|
|
leave me someplace where somebody will find me? Please! Don't
|
|
make my family suffer with not knowing what happened to me!",
|
|
Craig pleaded.
|
|
|
|
Mike stared at Craig, astonished that any child could face
|
|
death so courageously. That a kid -- ANY kid -- should be capable
|
|
of making such a plea filled him with amazement. There was no
|
|
doubt about it: This kid had GUTS.
|
|
|
|
"O.K., Craig", Mike began slowly. "You want me to leave you
|
|
here, and you want it so they can find you? All right, I can do
|
|
that. But I'll tell you right now that they won't like what they
|
|
find!"
|
|
|
|
He pressed his lips against the boy's mouth again, forcing
|
|
more kisses from him. Weird kid, he thought, but fun! A
|
|
little more, maybe, and he'd get what he wanted!
|
|
|
|
Pushing the boy away, he put his gag back but didn't
|
|
bother with shoving the rag back in his mouth first; he
|
|
wanted Craig muffled, but not totally silenced. Not for
|
|
what he had planned!
|
|
|
|
Reaching into the duffle bag, he drew out a long, wide
|
|
leather strap with twelve notches cut into one end. "See
|
|
these?", he told Craig. "One for every little boy I ever had
|
|
fun with. You get to be number thirteen." He peered at the belt.
|
|
"Why hey, that's an unluckyy number! Escpecially for you."
|
|
|
|
Folding the strap over, he brought it down hard on
|
|
Craig's stomach. WHAP! The leather cracked against Craig's
|
|
skin, making the boy double up for moment. WHAP! again,
|
|
this time on Craig's chest. Again and again it brought it
|
|
down, slapping the boy's chest, his stomach, then moving
|
|
down his legs, finally cracking it hard against the soles of
|
|
his feet. Each time Craig jumped and cried out in pain, his
|
|
body tense and quivering as he anticipated each blow. Yet
|
|
he did not cry, and that pissed Mike off even more!
|
|
|
|
He rolled the boy over and cracked the strap down hard
|
|
across the backs of his calves, moving up his thighs, then
|
|
up to his back, two whacks each time, each part and then
|
|
moving back to Craig's ass -- where he paused.
|
|
|
|
Craig was trembling, shaking, but not yet showing any
|
|
signs of giving in. Deep down, Mike had to admire the
|
|
kid -- he had balls. On the other hand, he was really
|
|
pissing Mike off to the nth degree!
|
|
|
|
WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! Four hard blows across Craig's
|
|
small ass, each harder than the last. Craig cried out with
|
|
each blow, shaking harder, yet he did not give in.
|
|
|
|
Angrily Mike tossed the strap aside and flipped the boy
|
|
over. "You're really asking for it kid!", he shouted, slapping
|
|
Craig hard across the face. The boy cried out and lay there,
|
|
dazed.
|
|
|
|
Mike had had enough of this. As much as he had tried
|
|
to "break" Craig, he realized now that that just wasn't
|
|
going to happen. But even so he wasn't finished, not quite
|
|
yet. He wanted to do one more thing, mostly for his own
|
|
personal fun.
|
|
|
|
Reaching into his duffle bag, he pulled out a small
|
|
length of string. Turning his back to Craig, he sat down on
|
|
the boy's chest and cupped Craig's balls in his hand. His
|
|
badly engorged penis was a dark purple now, almost black; it
|
|
looked like it might burst or fall off any second, it was
|
|
stretched so tightly. But his balls were still fine, at
|
|
least for the moment.
|
|
|
|
He began to tie the string around them, or rather,
|
|
around the sack, just above the kid's nuts. Tightly, no
|
|
less, until Craig's balls were stretched tight against the
|
|
scrotum sack that held them and the boy was moaning in pain.
|
|
Pulling the two ends of the string out, he wrapped them
|
|
around Craig's penis further up and pulled them tight,
|
|
forcing the boy's penis to aim downward. Behind him, he
|
|
could hear Craig scream out.
|
|
|
|
xxx
|
|
|
|
Craig was in real pain now. It felt as if someone were
|
|
ripping his abdomen apart slowly, stretching the skin beyond
|
|
belief. He felt dizzy and faint, the pain washing over him
|
|
in waves.
|
|
|
|
But he didn't get a chance to faint. He felt the belt
|
|
being removed from his ankles, and suddenly he was pulled to
|
|
his feet. Dizzy, stumbling, the man holding onto his arm,
|
|
he was led out into the warehouse proper, hardly noticing
|
|
the sharp sting of bits of concrete and other debris against
|
|
the soles of his sore, bare feet.
|
|
|
|
He dropped the boy into a sitting position and told him
|
|
to watch. Craig's head seemed to clear a little then, making
|
|
him all the more aware of how much pain he was in.
|
|
|
|
Craig saw then the man had brought the duffle bag.
|
|
Fighting pain, he watched what the man was doing.
|
|
|
|
Reaching into the bag, he withdrew a neatly bundled
|
|
coil of rope. Methodically, with Craig watching, he laid it
|
|
out end to end, measuring it from one I-beam to another,
|
|
then nodding to himself.
|
|
|
|
"This'll be a scream", he told the wide-eyed, shaking
|
|
boy.
|
|
|
|
Taking one end of the rope, he tossed it up and over an
|
|
overhead beam, making it on the first try. Pulling one end
|
|
and a good length toward the far I-beam, he walked back and
|
|
pulled Craig to his feet.
|
|
|
|
"Over here", he said, pulling Craig after him until the
|
|
boy stood even with the rope. Despite his obvious fear,
|
|
Craig stood silent and rigid, while Mike took the child's
|
|
belt and pulled it around his neck tightly, but not so
|
|
tightly the boy couldn't breath.
|
|
|
|
His fingers hooked in the belt so that if Craig tried
|
|
to bolt, he wouldn't go far, Mike tied the end of the rope
|
|
around the belt itself, several times to be safe. Then,
|
|
grabbing the length of it that hung down from the back of
|
|
the I-beam, he turned to face Craig.
|
|
|
|
"You said you wanted to be found", he told the boy,
|
|
"and well, hey, I think that's pretty cool." He chuckled
|
|
thickly, as if enjoying this. "Now, any last words?" With
|
|
that, he reached up and pulled down Craig's gag.
|
|
|
|
"Please, don't kill me, let me go and I promise I'll
|
|
never tell anyone, please!", Craig pleaded.
|
|
|
|
"Nope. Too late", Mike laughed, and began to pull on
|
|
the rope.
|
|
|
|
"Oh, no, please not that! Please, I umphfff--!"
|
|
|
|
xxx
|
|
|
|
As his feet, kicking and swinging, cleared the ground,
|
|
as his air was cut off and his throat constricted, Craig's
|
|
thoughts swung into high gear, and he began to pray. He
|
|
prayed that that someone, anyone, would come along to save
|
|
him; that his family wouldn't suffer from his death too
|
|
much; and forgiveness for the mis-choice that had resulted
|
|
in this happening to him... Slowly his vision began to
|
|
darken; the floor below spun and grew dim... and then the
|
|
blackness was total, and Craig was beyond praying. The
|
|
unhappy life of an unhappy little boy had come to a tragic
|
|
and unhappy end.
|
|
|
|
xxx
|
|
|
|
Mike stood and watched the youngster struggle and
|
|
thrash about in the air, his eyes bulging and tongue jutting
|
|
out as he hung suspended only a few feet from the floor, his
|
|
legs kicking and waving, face turning redder and redder.
|
|
|
|
With sudden inspiration, Mike dashed back into the office
|
|
and returned carrying the wooden crate. He positioned it next
|
|
to the dying child, then stood up on it himself.
|
|
|
|
Unzipping his pants, he let them drop, exposing his
|
|
rock hard cock. He grabbed the still writhing youngster
|
|
around the waist, and thrust himself into the child's rectum
|
|
and and began to pump wildly, the thought occuring to him to
|
|
be GLAD he had thought of tying off the rope to the I-beam,
|
|
and GLAD that Craig hadn't died more quickly -- that he
|
|
was, in fact, dying a very slow, agonizing death...
|
|
|
|
And then, as the jerking and twitching in Craig's body
|
|
slowed and came to a gradual stop, Mike came, spewing his
|
|
semen deep into the child's anal cavity, and he held the boy's
|
|
naked little corpse against him snugly in ectasy, his eyes
|
|
tightly shut as sexual release overwhelmed him...
|
|
|
|
xxx
|
|
|
|
It felt like hours had passed.
|
|
|
|
Mike opened his eyes and withdrew, hopping down from
|
|
his precarious perch atop the crate, and looked up -- looked
|
|
up at Craig's lifeless body hanging just a few feet away;
|
|
looked at the wide, bulging blue eyes staring down at him,
|
|
filled with the sudden shock and horror of sudden death.
|
|
|
|
Slowly Mike caught his breath and returned to the office
|
|
where he'd raped Craig, gathering up the boy's clothes and
|
|
other items, then returning to the spot where the boy had
|
|
been hanged. He dropped the boy's stuff in a pile beneath the
|
|
body, and went back for his duffle bag, returning with it a
|
|
few minutes later. Pulling out a clean rag, he wiped down
|
|
everything he'd touched, scattering each item in a circle
|
|
around Craig as it was wiped clean. Lastly, he reached up and
|
|
wiped down the youngster himself; then, almost as an
|
|
afterthought, went back and wiped down the office as well.
|
|
|
|
Finally done, he glanced at his watch. Nearly three
|
|
hours had passed; and time to get moving. If the school had
|
|
called to check on Craig, his parents by now were sure to be
|
|
looking for him, if the truant officers weren't. It was
|
|
just a matter of if, and when, they'd look in here...
|
|
|
|
Gathering up his stuff, he sneered at Craig's lifeless
|
|
corpse. "Shouldn't've played hooky, kid. See what happens
|
|
to bad little boys?"
|
|
|
|
And just before leaving -- he almost forgot! -- he reached
|
|
into his duffle bag and pulled out the leather strap he'd
|
|
earlier beaten Craig with. Digging his pen knife out as well,
|
|
he cut a small notch into the leather, next to the others.
|
|
|
|
"Unlucky number 13", he said to himself. "But Lucky, at
|
|
least for me...!"
|
|
|
|
Then he left, laughing, satisfied with himself for yet
|
|
another day.
|
|
|
|
And then he was gone.
|
|
|
|
Behind him, a light wind blew softly through the
|
|
building. It flapped through the pages of losse-leaf
|
|
notebooks which never again would see a little boy's
|
|
handwriting. It whispered through that lonely place,
|
|
rustling the sandy-blond hair of the naked little boy who
|
|
still hung, feet dangling just inches off the floor. His
|
|
eyes wide and staring, his head lolling grotesquely to one
|
|
side, mouth gagged, and hands bound tightly behind him,
|
|
he swayed gently back and forth in the cool spring breeze
|
|
of a world which never again would witness him at play.
|
|
|
|
Slowly, the hours passed...
|
|
|
|
|
|
EPILOGUE
|
|
|
|
School let out at three p.m. that afternoon, the doors
|
|
of the elementary school bursting open like the skin of a
|
|
ripe orange, letting loose an oozing stream of kids all
|
|
eager to get home and play before dinner time.
|
|
|
|
Practically at the head of the pack was Jeremy Whiler,
|
|
aged eleven. Jeremy's family had only moved here a few days
|
|
ago, and already he was itching to explore. While he'd been
|
|
over some of town the past few days, one place he hadn't
|
|
been yet was the old plant at the edge of town.
|
|
|
|
Yanking his bike out of the bike rack, he pedaled away
|
|
quickly, waving to the few friends he'd made who all had to
|
|
go home and do chores. Through the streets and down the
|
|
sidewalks he went, finally skidding to a halt before the
|
|
huge doors of the plant itself.
|
|
|
|
He stared up in awe. This was terrific! Jeremy just
|
|
loved to explore old buildings, no matter how many times his
|
|
parents warned him it wasn't safe. After all, what did an
|
|
eleven year old boy care about safe? He wanted adventure!
|
|
|
|
Pushing his bike into some bushes so nobody'd steal it,
|
|
he crept inside. Again, he stared in awe at all the space,
|
|
at the smaller, darker side offices -- and then he saw the
|
|
body.
|
|
|
|
At first, Jeremy didn't realize it was a body; he
|
|
thought it was a mannequin, left hanging there by some other
|
|
kids. He ran over to it, his eyes quickly going from the
|
|
mannequin to the pile of stuff that lay all around it. He
|
|
saw a wallet amid it all and picked it up, and discarded it
|
|
when he found it empty. Looking around, he spotted what
|
|
looked like a library card. Picking it up, he examined it
|
|
curiously. It bore a name: CRAIG SOMMERS.
|
|
|
|
Jeremy scratched his head. Hey, that name was familiar!
|
|
Craig Sommers was a kid everybody picked on, a weird loner.
|
|
Personally, Jeremy felt a bit sorry for him; but he picked
|
|
on Craig too, mostly because everyone else did.
|
|
|
|
Only then did it hit him.
|
|
|
|
Lifting his eyes, he stared up at the mannequin. He'd
|
|
seen mannequins before, with no clothes on; but they didn't
|
|
have long, black things sticking out of them where their
|
|
private parts should be -- and they DIDN'T have such hideous
|
|
expressions on their faces...
|
|
|
|
Jeremy dropped the card and backed up. This was no
|
|
mannequin he was staring at -- it was CRAIG SOMMERS!
|
|
|
|
Screaming, the boy tore out of the plant, forgetting
|
|
his bike, and ran down the street, still screaming at the
|
|
top of his lungs...
|
|
|
|
xxx
|
|
|
|
They buried little Craig Sommers two days later,
|
|
dressed in a brown suit he wore to church every Sunday.
|
|
Nearly the whole town turned out for the funeral, perhaps
|
|
the largest gathering in the town's history.
|
|
|
|
Craig's parents were devastated. The autopsy had
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|
revealed he died of slow strangulation, and that he'd been
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raped prior to that. They were not told the rest, however,
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like the results of what had been done to his sexual organs,
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|
or the damage he would have suffered had he survived.
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|
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|
Even as his parents mourned, the police began the hunt
|
|
for his killer. Outraged citizens joined them, searching
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|
for the faceless person who'd violated and taken the young
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boy's life, vowing mob justice once they found him.
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|
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By then, of course, it was too late. For Craig. And
|
|
for Craig's killer, who'd long ago left them and his crimes
|
|
behind...
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|
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<*> THE END <*>
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