3. Ollie

Chapter 3

Ollie

T he only light we have guiding us through the densely wooded area is the thin strip of orange that illuminates the sky. Sundown came on quick tonight. After Wilder finished up with whoever the fuck he had in the cellar, we headed out. We changed into some hunting gear to help blend into the surroundings. Wilder made sure he had his straight razor, and I made sure my favorite knives were sharp and ready to go.

“You sure you know where we suppose to be goin'?” Wilder chimes in from behind me. I roll my eyes even though he can’t see it.

“Yep,” is all I give him in response.

If we find this girl, we're going have to kill whoever is with her just so we can bring her back with us. I got a feeling she ain’t gonna take too kindly to us killing the young kid she had with her. “You gon be okay with killin’ a kid, Wild? I know you’s want some of them for yourself.”

Wilder throws an arm over my shoulder, pulling me into his side. “If the kid ain’t from you or me, I got no problem with it.”

We make our way deeper into the area of the forest where people camp. Our family purchased this property when it was just untouched forest and swampland. Nobody would dare camp on the land that didn’t belong to them. Yet, these city people come here and don’t care where they set up their tents. Nine times out of ten, they are on our property.

If you are caught on someone’s property uninvited out here, you never make it back to your cozy bed back home. With determined steps, we kept going, ready to confront the intruders and retrieve the girl we were after. The night’s darkness and woods’ density intensified the hunt’s thrill as we aimed to reclaim what was ours.

Well, more like protecting our land and taking what doesn’t belong to us.

Wilder and I have been protecting this land since we were young’uns. When your the kids of the parish drunk and the disgraced daughter of a preacher, people always try to fuck with you.

Dis ‘ere land was all dat we got.

As we continue our search through the property, the frustration of not finding anything weighs on me. However, Wilder remains calm and composed, walking beside me at a steady pace, his gentle humming providing a sense of tranquility amidst the dense, muggy heat.

The stifling air clings to our bodies, causing our shirts to stick uncomfortably to our backs and our hair to cling to our foreheads. In this moment, a longing for the cool relief of the waterfall on the other side of the property fills my thoughts. It was a place we frequented in our youth, gathering with friends in the late hours of the night for exhilarating skinny-dipping adventures. It was there, amidst the rush of adrenaline and the innocence of youth, that both Wilder and I lost our virginity.

As the memories of those carefree days flood my mind, Wilder interrupts my thoughts with a question. “You smell dat?” he asks, inhaling deeply. Curiosity piqued, I follow suit and take a deep breath. The unmistakable scent of smoke and sausages wafts through the air, signaling that we are indeed heading in the right direction .

Determined and hopeful, we press on, guided by the tantalizing aroma that promises a breakthrough in our search. With each step, our anticipation grows, knowing that once we find our target, the property will become a playground for us and our new “plaything”.

I can hear the crackling of the campfire before I can see it. “You have your mask?” I ask him, pulling mine from my pocket. Wilder smiles and pulls his mask out. The masks cover only the bottom half of our faces. A twisted creepy smile, with blood splatter on it. It’s actual blood too, none of that fake shit for the “aesthetic”.

We put them on and move closer to the campsite sound. We can hear the sounds of multiple voices, more than the two we were expecting. Our boots tread lightly over the twigs and foliage underneath, careful not to make too much noise. I peek around the trunk of the large tree I am behind and spot her.

She sits by the campfire, her back facing us. Her long, flowing hair cascades down her shoulders, shimmering in the firelight. I recognize her instantly. A surge of excitement rushes through me, but I quickly compose myself, not wanting to give away our presence.

Wilder and I exchange a knowing glance, silently communicating our plan. We inch closer, careful to remain hidden. As we approach, the voices of the other people at the campsite grow louder. Our soon-to-be woman is not alone but with her family.

“Lowe, can you please pass the buns this way?” The voice of the woman across from her asks. The woman bears no resemblance to the girl. Is she her mother?

The girl stands and walks around the fire pit, handing the woman the bag of hot dog buns. When she turns back around, I can see the raw emotions on her face. She don’t like this woman one bit. I turn to Wilder, questioning eyes meeting his. He shrugs, and mouths, “We gon' jus have ta take out all dem. ”

We exchange a few hushed whispers, weighing our options. We didn’t expect a whole little family to be here. But it is what it is. I look at him and nod, sliding one of my knives out and gripping it tightly. Wilder has his razor in hand, but unopened. We move forward.

“Lowe, can you bring me the bag of chips?” With a stupid fucking smile, the woman asks our girl, intentionally trying to annoy her. I don’t know why, but it’s getting on my nerves.

The girl huffs, but rises to her feet, snatching up the bag of chips. I emerge from the trees. Reaching around her, I grab the wrist holding the bag. “She ain’t gon be needin' dem chips.”

The man next to the woman jumps up as Wilder steps out. “Let my daughter go.” He eyes me, but I know this motherfucker ain’t gonna do shit. The man reeks of being a pussy, and not the good kind of pussy. A laugh escapes my lips as I pull her back against my chest. The girl says nothing, but her body trembles in fear.

“Drop da bag, chére,” I instruct her, and like a good girl, she don’t hesitate. The open bag of chips hits the ground and the contents spill out.

The young kid stands up beside the man and takes a protective stance.

“Don’t try anyting stupid, you,” Wilder says, pointing his razor at the boy.

“Let my sister go.” The boy pleads.

“Aw come on now, how 'bout she shows us some good ol’ southern hospitality.” Wilder chuckles as he moves to stand next to me. He runs his fingers over her bare shoulder. “Ain’t dat right, chére? You wanna show us a good time?”

“N-no,” she stutters over her words. Her lip quivers as her breaths come out in brief spurts.

The man, still holding the skewer from the hot dog, inches closer to us and his daughter. I tighten my grip around the girl, staking my claim on her. The tension in the air is palpable as the man’s anger simmers. I stare him down, my eyes unwavering. “Back off,” I warn, my voice low and menacing.

The woman next to him, sensing the escalating tension, tries to diffuse the situation. “Please, let’s just calm down,” she pleads, her voice tinged with fear. “What do you want? We have little here, but we can get you whatever.” But her words fall on deaf ears as Wilder and I stand our ground.

The young boy, still protective of his sister, steps forward, his voice filled with determination. “I said let go of my sister,” he says defiantly.

I feel an inkling of respect for the boy’s courage, but I can’t let emotions cloud my judgment. “Step back, you. I’d hate for your sister to witness my brother slittin’ your lil’ throat.” I command my tone leaving no room for negotiation.

The man hesitates for a moment, his eyes darting between his daughter and the dangerous duo before him. Finally, he takes a step back, realizing the futility of trying to confront us.

With a satisfied smirk, I release my grip on the girl’s wrist. “You stay right ‘ere with me, chére. You,” I point to the woman. “Why you be treat 'er wid such disrespect?” The woman stares at me blankly. I bend down, grab the bag of chips, and brush away the dirt. “I asked you a question, bitch. You wan' dese ‘ere chips so bad. Come an get ‘em.”

The woman shakes her head, eyes narrowed but showing no sense of fear. “And I asked you what you want.” She says, boldly.

“Dis one right ‘ere is what we want,” Wilder says, leaning in to sniff the girl’s hair. “How old is you, chére?”

“Eighteen. I- I just graduated school and…I…I’m going to California next month for college.” She shakes as if she’s a scolded puppy waiting for a beating.

“Well, you can forget ‘bout dat,” Wilder smirks, as he leans in and runs his tongue up the side of her neck.

“Please,” she whimpers. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“Well, it might hurt at first. But I promise it'll feel good after a while.” I say, keeping my eyes on her father and brother. “But first, we have ta take care of da rest of you. Might wanna say goodbye to your family, chére.”

“Oh God,” she cries as I inch closer to her father.

“Sorry you gon’ have ta watch this chére,” I look at her and she’s terrified. I turn back to her family. “Y’all might wanna run now, see? I do like to hunt my prey before guttin' dem.”