Chapter 34 - Riot

Know who you're dealing with.

A sickening slice, followed by a squelching sound caused me to look up and see a body impaled on a sharp stake. The body twitched; death was instantaneous. He'd landed pretty high up, but I could still see that it'd gone right through his chest.

So much for Milton coming back down.

I started toward the coaster I'd seen on the other side of the park, The Cyclone. I bet there were a few parts I could steal from it for some bikes or other machines that people brought over.

I thought about the freshly dead bunker soldier as I worked on loosening bolts. The impalement was a better death than the one he was working on. Milton was deep in the turning process and only had a week left, tops, before he went full creepie. No one deserved that. Even a smart mouth like him.

Creepies would smell the body by tomorrow, I was sure. There was no sense in getting him down to bury or burn him. He wouldn't have done it for anyone else. I forced the dark thoughts from my mind and got what I needed to get and started back toward my bike.

I was supposed to drop him off and leave, but I'd been mildly curious about who he was meeting. I'd asked a few times if Rank One had a name, sex, or a personality at all. Rank One's identity was the one thing he was tight lipped on. Although, based on the amount of slurs he hailed at me and Boone, I thought it was a safe assumption that Rank One had a pussy and tits.

I hoped he hadn't tried for one last hurrah with his cock. Based on the state of the rest of him, if he tried to put his dick in something, it might fall off inside it. Maybe that's why he got pushed off the tower. I laughed to myself as I walked past the body hanging above.

A feminine scream caused me to pause and turn toward the stairs.

Was that Rank One?

I walked toward the sound, keeping in the shadows.

"You monster!" The girl screamed.

"Eleanor!" A man called behind her.

I froze.

Eleanor? It couldn't--

A short woman in a pink, frill dress bound down the stairs. She was barefoot, so one step on the dirt caused her tan, blood-covered legs to buckle. Tears slid down her face as she reached for her foot. There was a large piece of glass buried deep in it. My muscles screamed as I resisted the urge to help her. Instead, I took her in slowly, admiring how beautiful she was.

The girl was short, but her ample breasts and hourglass figure told me she was older than what her height would make me assume. She had long, dark brown hair, tied up in two wavy pig-tails on the sides of her head. Paired with the pink dress, it made her look innocent. Her big, brown eyes and cupid-bow lips made for a dangerous combo. I'd never seen someone so pretty and yet so tough.

She ripped the shard of glass from her foot and leaped up. Without looking back, she ran off into the night, and I followed at a slower pace. The man who'd called her ran after her. He wore the same suit Milton had been wearing, only his wasn't dusty and torn open. It was clean as if he'd just left the bunker. Had he and the girl left the bunker together?

It wasn't until I'd been following them for a while that I realized he wasn't wearing a helmet either. Now, I knew the Young Ladies could go without, but the Daddies weren't supposed to be able to. Was he not a Daddy? Was he someone different?

Eleanor was fast, despite being barefoot with an open wound. She was determined to get away, but the man in the uniform was more driven. He stormed after her, like a fox chasing his little bunny rabbit. And the little rabbit was heading toward The Cyclone.

She pivoted and much to my surprise, bound into a pitch-black tunnel labeled Tunnel of Love .

She had guts to go somewhere dark like that up here.

I reached for the gun on my hip, prepared to shoot at the first growl or sound of something crawling, but then I slid back into the shadows when the man followed her inside. He spoke and his words echoed all the way out and to me.

"Weren't you taught not to run from your Daddy?"

She seemed scared, her voice shaking as she replied, but it was too low for me to hear. His tone shifted lower as well, and soon it was clear that this was all foreplay. Moans of pleasure from both parties were coming from the tunnel.

I turned away, my dick hard, but for the first time since I'd started getting rockets, I felt gross considering beating off right now. I looked down at my hand; the name that I'd spent a full year thinking about etched around my thumb and forefinger.

Eleanor.

These two couldn't be the same person. There was no way. The Eleanor in the tunnel currently getting her pussy pounded was a grown woman. Myrtle wasn't much older than me. There was no way she could have an adult daughter.

Could she?

I took my time going back to my motorcycle, racking my brain of the time I'd spent with Myrtle. She hadn't stayed at Heathen Heights long, but she'd definitely left an impact on me. There wasn't a day I didn't think about Myrtle and her plight. She left a mark on me in a way I'd never expected. I'd only ever had platonic feelings for my sister and... Myrtle.

But... did Myrtle have a sister?

The two women did look quite a bit alike. Although as I straddled my bike and flipped the kickstand up, I decided that Eleanor was far more attractive. Something about her adorable, pretty face paired with her strength and rage when she pulled that glass out of her foot and took off running was stirring something in me. I didn't just want to fuck her. I wanted to get to know her.

My bike roared to life and I headed back to Heathen Heights, leaving Milton's corpse where it landed, and thinking of Eleanor and my next move.

I had to meet her.