Blood Wild

Kicking and wriggling as best she could with her arms pinned to her sides, Deeny felt herself being dragged back to the corner and the pallet of hay that she had just jumped up from. The old drunk soldier's sour sweat and the reek of cigarette smoke and alcohol made her eyes water. She did manage to connect the heel of her right foot, now minus her shoe, with the man's right shin.

"You little bitch! Damn it! Don't piss me off. I'm not as nice as some bastards like that Duke! If you're nice... I won't hurt you... much." He growled into Deeny's ear before throwing her down onto the hay.

Deeny froze at the mention of her father's name. He was the only "Duke" around here. How did this man know him? Had her father crossed this man somehow? Maybe he'd fooled around with someone this man cared about. But surely, he didn't know that Duke was her father... did he?

The drunken man fumbled with his belt and unbuttoned the uniform trousers letting them fall to his knees. His white boxer shorts were dingy in the low light and appeared to be stained, and there was a wet spot in front. While keeping one eye on Deeny, he raised the bottle to his lips again to take another pull, and he hooked the thumb of his other hand in the waistband of his shorts and began to push them down.

Deeny was not a virgin, far from it, but she'd never been with an older man before, and certainly not forced to be with anyone. This scared her, this was not right, this was not going to happen. It all seemed so surreal, with the sounds of music and laughter in the background.

As his shorts were pushed down, his semi-erect uncut manhood flopped out into view. He leered at her as she cowered in the hay just a few feet away from him. He brought the bottle to his lips again to take another drink but realized the bottle was now empty. With a growl, he tossed the bottle aside and it landed on the work bench and shattered. With an evil grin growing on his cruel face, he took his manhood in hand and began to stroke it. When his hand glided to the base of his shaft, the foreskin was pulled back and the shiny purple head appeared only to disappear when his hand came back up the shaft.

Deeny's heart was racing and her breath was ragged with panic. Her eyes above the veil were wide and fearful as she watched the lewd menacing actions of this drunken stranger. She'd backed herself away from him as far as she could go, her back was against the wall as she drew herself up into a crouch. Her legs were under her, she wanted to bolt and get the hell out of there but he stood between her and the door. Leering and stroking himself as his cock got harder.

The sound of music and laughter outside coming from the barn and from further away, the bonfire, seemed ironic to this situation. But when the man began to chuckle, an evil and cruel sound, Deeny's heart leapt into her throat. She couldn't have screamed if she had wanted to, and she did want to. She wanted to scream bloody murder, she wanted to draw attention of someone, anyone who might save her.

The man tried to close the distance between himself and Deeny, but with his pants and shorts around his knees, all he could do was shuffle awkwardly. Then, he stumbled. He fell forward to his knees and landed with a grunt. Deeny saw her chance, maybe her only chance, and she bolted past him on her way to the door.

She didn't make it to the door however, the man reached out with his right arm and caught her about the waist and pulled her towards himself. This time Deeny did scream. Her voice was swallowed up by the other noises in the night air outside, the music, the laughter, the general conversations between people. What was a sound of fright and terror inside the tack room sounded as a muffled cry if anything outside.

Deeny's hands immediately began pushing at his arm as she spun and tried to get away. Lifting his left hand off the floor where he had caught himself when he fell, the man tried to pull at her skirt. Thankfully the costume was several skirts, layered one atop another. In his drunken state, the man couldn't quite figure it out and her squirming and twisting wasn't making it any easier for him to concentrate on the problem.

The man had managed to pull Deeny around to his front. He would soon learn that that was a mistake. In desperation and in a full-blown panic now, as if the rest before now was only scary, Deeny brought her right knee up and connected with the man's jaw. His head snapped back momentarily. He shook his head and began to growl menacingly again but before he could even say anything. Deeny took a half step back and brought her right, shoeless, foot up in a powerhouse kick that connected with the man's balls.

It was if the wind suddenly went out of his sails as he hunched over, all of his breath coming out in a whoosh. In the moment of undeniable and excruciating pain, his grip on Deeny was released and she stepped back, ready to kick him again. There was no need however, as he fell forward on his hands again and began puking. He then collapsed right on top of the mess and curled into a fetal position and groaned pathetically.

Deeny spotted her missing shoe just beside the door and stooped long enough to pick it up and slip her foot into it before she opened the door and ran. As she bolted through the door, to what she had hoped to be freedom and safety, she ran headlong into another lumbering drunk. Well, maybe not completely besotted as the man in the tack room but smelling strongly of alcohol all the same.

This man caught her in his arms, more out of reflex than by design. At this point Deeny's scarf had fallen from her face as she had struggled with the other man and made her escape. Looking down into her frightened and still panicky face, the man recognized her. He had known her all her life, though only seeing her occasionally and usually with her mother or her father who he was lifelong friends with. Hank Lipscomb stood a little straighter and held her as he looked at her with a concerned if befuddled expression.

"Deeny? What's got you so scared little girl?" Hank asked as the alcoholic fog dissipated somewhat.

"In there... there's a... there's... He's..." Deeny stammered still incapable of coherent speech.

Hank held her upper arms in each of his hands and pulled back a bit to look her up and down. Not seeing anything obviously out of place other than Deeny's distraught expression on her face, he asked in a very calm voice.

"Are you okay, Deeny? What's wrong?"

"I... me and a... friend were... kind of... we were fooling around... but he went to get us something to drink. Then... He... that man... came in! He was going to..." Deeny sputtered the whole time shaking like a leaf, her eyes wide and spooked.

"Did he... touch you?" Hank asked trying desperately to keep his voice calm, even though his suspicions were making him angrier with every breath.

"No... I mean, yes... he grabbed me, but I... I kicked him and got away!" Deeny spat her panic ebbing slightly as she realized that she had inflicted pain on her would be assaulter.

Hank couldn't help but to wince at the thought of Deeny kicking someone in the nuts, she was a pretty girl but country... healthy and strong, not a wilting flower by any means. Yeah, whoever it was that was after her would be in a world of hurt right now. Seeing that Deeny, though still skittish, had calmed markedly knowing that she was no longer alone to face this stranger, Hank glanced over at the door to the tack room and decided he'd best go investigate for himself. Surprisingly, Deeny followed closely behind him.

After pulling the door open cautiously, it took a little while for Hank's eyes to adjust to the low light inside the tack room. There was only a small kerosene lantern hanging above the work bench off to the left of the room. The dull yellowish light barely lit the room creating more shadows than eliminating them. Hank noticed the broken bottle shards on the work bench as they reflected the dull yellow light.

From the darker corner where the hay pallet lay there was a man curled in a fetal position. His pants still down around his knees so his bare ass shown in the low glow from the lamp, as did his heavy ball sack that poked out between his curled legs from behind. It wouldn't have been a surprise at all to hear the figure moaning in pain, but instead there was a low buzzing snore. He was unconscious.

Crossing to the bench, Hank reached up and unhooked the lantern from the nail it was hung on, then moved to the foot of the hay pallet. Raising the lantern higher and closer to the man's face, Hank saw it and knew who this man was.

"Well, I'll be... JD Branson... you bastard. Guess you got what you deserved this time huh?" Hank voiced quietly before chuckling a little and turning back to the bench to rehang the lantern.

"Who... who is it, Hank?" Deeny asked nervously from the doorway, still not brave enough to reenter the tack room.

"Jefferson Davis Branson" Hank proclaimed as he joined her in the doorway, looking back at JD as he lay curled in the hay.

"I believe he lives just down the road from your pa's place. He's a mean old bastard, guess he's got reason to be, but some people are just born bitter and mean." Hank said as he turned back to Deeny, to study her face intently before asking her what was on his mind.

"Deeny, I believe every word you told me, but other's might not. I mean, it's a barn party... the Wilding... People get confused with the costumes and all. He could argue that it was a case of mistaken identity if nothing else. Do you want to charge him with anything? I can call the Sherriff if you want... but..." Hank left the "but" hanging as he figured that she was smart enough to catch his drift.

Deeny's expression looked pensive and angered even if still a little frightened. Hank could see the question working its way through her mind and her coming to a decision. Rather than give him a verbal answer she simply shook her head then spat at the unconscious man across the room. It didn't matter if the spit didn't actually hit him, but the act defined how she thought of him all the same.

Deeny spun on her heels and began to walk away. Hank left the tack room and followed her across the yard to a parked wagon that had coolers full of soft drinks and a table with pitchers of lemonade, tea, and of course punch along with stacks of cups. Seeing the drinks so close to the tack room made Deeny pause and wonder what happened to the boy who had brought her to the tack room in the first place. He never did return.

Sensing that this was something different, but still significant, Hank stopped beside her and placed his right hand on her back to rub her gently as if to reassure her that she wasn't alone. Deeny half turned her saddened and puzzled face to look at Hank and smiled sadly for a moment.

"I guess my date, changed his mind, or got distracted..." She mumbled before the sad smile dropped into a frown, her eyebrows furrowing on her forehead as a thought crossed her mind.

"I wonder... could he have set me up? I mean drawing me into the tack room like that then have me wait for him... only for someone else to show up?" She wondered aloud, mostly to herself rather than asking Hank or anyone else.

"Who was this boy?" Hank asked quietly, as the same thought began to form in his own mind. This could be darker than just an ugly mistake. Not that things like that have never happened around here before. There was a bit of a history of those kinds of goings on hereabout over the years. Hell, even he himself had been in on some of that kind of high jinks. Of course, in his day it had been all in fun, no one getting hurt or forced against their will.

Deeny's frown preceded her response. Her shoulders fell in dejection as she realized that this could have been mostly her fault for letting herself get taken in by some boy, she fancied but had no idea who it was. Lesson learned.

Hank ended up driving Deeny home that evening as she couldn't find any of the other girls she had come to the dance with. Hank was at loose ends, enjoying a rare night off from the diner. He spoke of working the long hours there even as the owner, lamenting that he needed to hire more help so that he might have any kind of social life himself.

It didn't take too much effort on either's part to determine that this chance meeting could be beneficial to both of them. He asked her if she would be interested in working part time after school. Deeny said that she would love to work somewhere to make a little money, but she'd have to clear it with her mom and dad first.

When Hank pulled up to the old farmhouse that Deeny and her family called home, the old blue chevy wasn't there. Deeny's pa was still not home, no surprise there for Deeny anyway. They were met on the back porch by Deeny's mom Caroline. She smiled briefly at Deeny before giving Hank a rather stern look that bordered on loathing. Hank understood the suspicious nature of Caroline's glare, they had known each other since before Deeny was ever born.

"Hank, you working as a taxi driver now?" Caroline queried suspiciously, one eyebrow raised questioningly.

"That would be a change of pace for me, wouldn't it, Caroline?" Hank asked with a chuckle.

"Did you see him tonight?" Caroline asked directly, ignoring Hank's attempted humor.

"No, Caroline, I didn't. But then, I ran into other...old friends..." Hank said hanging his head slightly and looking up the steps at Caroline somewhat sheepishly before moving his eyes to Deeny as if to say "not in front of her."

Caroline was quick to take the hint and turned to Deeny and told her to go on in and get ready for bed. She crossed her arms in front of her as if hugging her own chest and watched Deeny turn and go into the house through the old creaky screen door. Turning back to Hank, Caroline waited until she heard Deeny's footsteps on the stairs before raising the single eyebrow again silently indicating he should elaborate further.

"JD was at the dance, Caroline, he was drunker than a skunk." Hank stated softly, knowing that Caroline was well aware of the rumors about JD and Duke... or rather Duke and JD's wife Annie.

"Was she there? Annie?" Caroline asked pointedly, her heart beating just a little bit faster as the knots in her stomach began to twist tighter with familiar anger, and heartache.

"If she was, I didn't see her." Hank said honestly. "I only saw JD, because I found him... after I ran into Deeny." Hank added, knowing that he'd have to explain further.

Hank went on to describe what had happened and what Deeny had told him. Caroline had to sit down on the steps to the porch as she wrapped her arms around her knees, feeling the bile rise in her throat. It had been a close call for her eldest daughter, a very close call. Belatedly she thanked Hank for looking out for her girl. Hank was seemingly embarrassed all the more for being thanked. He just nodded and told her good night and turned to go.

"If you see that bastard husband of mine... no... never mind. Good night, Hank." Caroline said standing up and turning to go into the house.

Hank climbed into his old car and turned about and headed out the driveway to go home himself. Unbeknownst to him, Caroline had closed the heavy oak back door and locked it, then leaned her forehead against the grainy wood and wept. Another night alone, wondering where her husband was, and who he might be with.

***___***___

Deeny shook her head as she drove through town. Remembering that night always gave her the creeps. She realized how close she came to getting raped that night, as if that was the worst of it. No, the worst part was learning that her mother was so unhappy and that her father was... was... was what? She knew that he loved her mother, and both herself and her younger sister, but... He couldn't seem to be able to help himself when it came to other women as well. The details are sketchy in her mind but he could have been with half the women in the county for all she knew.

Pulling into the parking lot at the high school, the old blue chevy, as always, was followed by a thin hazy cloud of blue smoke. The brakes squealed a little as Deeny slowed near the front doors of the school. Several busses were still lined up further down the curb waiting for the last of their passengers to get aboard before departing the school. There were always stragglers walking or sometimes running to their waiting busses.

Deeny held her feet on the clutch and the brake till she turned off the engine, then relaxed as she waited for her younger sister to come out of the school. She sat back in the driver's seat and closed her eyes imagining the older chestnut-haired waitress, Yvonne. Deeny felt a familiar tingle and dampness between her legs as she remembered the feel of Yvonne's breath on her own face this afternoon just before she left the diner to come pickup her sister. Those lips had been so close... Deeny shuddered at the thought. She sighed thinking that she should have just risked it and leaned a little closer and kissed the older woman. A shout from a student running for a bus shook Deeny out of her day dream.

"Come on Lee..." Deeny lamented as she gripped the big steering wheel a little tighter with both hands, and bit her bottom lip as she closed her eyes again for a moment to remember Yvonne's inviting lips just inches away.

***___***___

The senior nurse at the desk was nodding her head and flipping through the chart in front of her, double checking the information on it. She was making sure all the blanks were filled in and all the signatures were correct and dated. Sheriff Potter stood tiredly on the other side of the counter, leaning his left elbow on the surface and resting his head in his hand. His other hand patting clumsily at his breast pocket, absent mindedly feeling for his cigarettes.

Glancing up as he was just about to light a cigarette he'd just put in his mouth, the head nurse frowned and her eyes narrowed darkly. Without looking at it, she used the pen in her hand to point over her shoulder at the sign on the wall next to the clock that clearly stated "NO SMOKING". Gerald paused the lighter just before he brought it to the end of the cigarette. He too frowned and closed the lighter and took the cigarette out of his mouth and put it back in the pack.

"Sorry." He grumbled, taking a deep weary breath as he continued to wait for the nurse to speak to him.

"Well, it looks like everything is in order. Mrs. Wainwright is being discharged. Perhaps you can speak to her when she gets home." The equally tired senior nurse told him, her eyes focusing on Gerald's pack of cigarettes still in his hand, her tongue wetting her lips in response to her own craving perhaps.

"Is she gone already?" The Sheriff asked with almost a groan in his voice.

"Not yet. I've just completed her discharge paperwork. The doctor has signed off on her release and supplied her prescriptions. We just have to ger her up and into a wheel chair to transport her down to the exit." The nurse told Gerald just as an alarm started going off for another room, just adding to the ambient noise of the hospital around them.

"Can't I speak to her in her room while that's being taken care of then?" Gerald asked hopefully.

The nurse looked up at him and frowned a little more, if that was possible, but then shrugged.

"I suppose that would be alright. But no smoking. Wait till you get back outside." She told him with an envious glint in her tired grey eyes.

A candy striper led Gerald down the hall to the room that Vivian Wainwright was in. The young girl stepped over to the chair beside the bed and gently shook Trina's shoulder to wake her up. Trina had leaned over to rest her head on her left arm that was on the bed rail, her other hand still held her mother's hand. Trina jumped with a start and woke up. The nurse apologized.