Debauchery Falls Ch. 11

"We do. You'll have plenty of time to play with your new toy later," Abernathy assured her.

She harrumphed.

"On your knees, my new flock. To receive your blessings," he ordered Halley and Galloway. The girls, naked and obedient, bounded from the communion table with a joyous spring to their step. They were giddy.

They knelt, even as the muddy water began to run along their knees. The trickle into the depths of the bunker was growing steadier. Abernathy needed to hurry, lest his lair flood.

Galloway and Halley knelt, like two penitent sluts awaiting their communion. Their mouths open, and their tongues out. Their hands clasped in front of their chests, palms up to catch any stray drops that they might miss. Abernathy and Wallace stood over their upturned faces and began to feverishly stroke their excited cocks.

It didn't take long. They'd been fucking hard for a long time with these two newly cultivated bimbos.

"Take my blessings, you whores," Abernathy grunted and snarled. His hips were a blur, humping himself aggressively into his own hand. Beside him, Wallace's meaty staff was being relentlessly pulverized by his own head-sized fist. A deep growl built in his throat-- deep and resonant, like Mighty Kong about to roar.

Their cocks utterly exploded after a moment, jumping nearly at the same time, as though a backed-up fire hose had been un-kinked.

Abernathy aimed for their tongues, and when his cock went off, it launched his white hot vile seed straight into Galloway's mouth, landing thickly on her tongue.

"Ahhhhh!!!" She said mindlessly, as though she was opening up for a doctor to check her throat.

He turned, and his next ropes flew wildly into the face of Halley. She echoed Galloway's sound as he seeded her mouth, her tongue, her hair and much of her face. He alternated faces between ropes, trying to evenly distribute his mess of cum on each. A sheen of thick white running down their features.

Wallace's eruption was truly a sight to behold. An absolute geyser of built up testosterone spewed from his manhood and blasted both women in the face. They were utterly shocked by how much he unloaded onto them. Blast after blast of smooth white cream. It filled their upturned mouths, overflowing them until the cum was dribbling down their chins and pattering onto their breasts. The girls caught as much as they could with their cupped hands, and when Wallace's orgasm finally came to a merciful end, the girls cupped their palms to their lips, and drank of his offerings. They slurped and swallowed his cum, and licked their palms clean.

"Good girls," Abernathy grinned and patted each of them on the head. Galloway and Halley peered up at him with smitten eyes. "You can collect your things now, and go below," he told them.

Abernathy regained his wits and glanced at his congregation. "You may adjourn to your new homes." Then he looked at the frozen faces of Graver and Quinn. "Except for you two. You know what... as fun as it's been... I don't have much use for either of you. I'd rather just not invite you to the party." He picked up Quinn's pistol and dropped on the pew between the men.

"Kill yourselves and be done with it," he ordered them.

Graver picked up the weapon without a second thought, and put it to his own temple. Time seemed to stand still. Halley and Galloway glanced to their former friends, lovers, and teammates. There was hardly a thought in either of their minds. They were gone. Abernathy was grinning like a rat, with his pinched face and his thick glasses, excited to see the end of them.

The gunshot echoed throughout the room, as loud as it might sound if the world was coming to an end. Graver's hand suddenly dropped away from his temple. His head was fine, no bullet wound appeared.

Abernathy's grin faded, not understanding at first, why Graver's head was still intact. Or why the rain that he'd been summoning to torture Quinn and Graver suddenly ceased in an instant. Or why a burning sensation had developed in his stomach and grew and grew with a searing brilliance beyond anything he'd ever felt before. Or... who the busty redheaded girl with the freckles and the giant boobs was, standing at the front doors to his church, pointing a smoking rifle at him...

***

When Graver's helicopter had vanished into the night, and Lucy had found herself alone in that cul-de-sac, she had been overcome with an intense weight of loneliness and dread. She knew that Graver had only been looking out for her. But over the course of the night, they had become more than just lovers. They were a team. He had looked out for her. And she had been certain he would need her to look out for him.

She had glanced inside the Jeep, and seen that he'd left her his old rifle and equipment, in exchange for the cache that the blonde pilot had brought him. Lucy smiled to herself. She hadn't listened to Graver at the start of this trip. Why start now?

Good thing too. Because she'd found the town in utter devastation, and a helicopter relentlessly circling a path through the woods that had led to an old church, that was lit from within. Sounds and screams were rolling out of it. They sounded like the voices of Halley and Galloway. They sounded like they were being tortured.

Lucy had braved the hip-deep flood waters, and climbed the stairs to the church. When she'd forced the doors open, she'd been treated a sight beyond the darkest reaches her imagination.

Halley and Galloway, nude and violated. An audience of naked on-lookers. A hulking giant and a scrawny man with a rodent face. He was telling Graver to kill himself, and Graver had bizarrely, like a sleepwalker, placed a pistol to his own temple.

Lucy didn't hesitate, not even to question the impossible typhoon of water that was materializing out of nowhere, dousing Captain Graver and Sergeant Quinn. She planted her feet, shouldered her rifle (as Graver had taught her to do), centered her sights on the torso of the man with the rodent face, and she'd fired.

The rifle bucked in her arms. The shot echoed throughout the room, and everything changed in an instant.

The torrent of impossible rain ceased. Graver's hand dropped away. The man with the rodent face clutched the bullet hole in his stomach and staggered, staring in unrecognizing bewilderment at Lucy. Who was this woman? He hadn't been aware of her in the town at all. Not a citizen, and not one of the team.

Then suddenly Abernathy's captives came to their senses.

Graver blinked. He could move, he could think, he was aware, and he had a gun in his hand!

Quinn jumped to his feet.

Halley scrambled away from her tormentors.

Abernathy's hold on them was gone. Lucy was ready to fire again, but Galloway, naked and as agile as a cat flung herself at Abernathy.

His screech was high-- the shriek of a child in the throes of an epic tantrum. He staggered, even as the blood ran from between his fingers, down his naked torso. He slammed into the podium where Galloway had been defiled by Wallace and it toppled-- directly into a bench of lit candles. They tilted and rolled. The tapestry that they came to rest against went up in an instant. The flames climbed to the ceiling.

Abernathy was frozen, trying to comprehend what was happening. His plan had gone instantly off the rails. He watched as the flames took hold of the church, and caught. He understood that things had changed, even as the first of his congregation screamed in horror and confusion. All of them snapping back to reality-- the sea of naked town's people. His hold on all of them had vanished.

The hatch! He needed to get down there, seal himself away, and patch his wound (assuming it wasn't fatal). He ran for it, but Galloway's strong bare thigh shot out, landing a hit to the back of his knee that sent him falling forward... right into the open hatch.

"Nooooooo!!!" He screamed as he toppled into the hole. The blackness of the bunker's entrance swallowed him. He seemed to fall forever, and twice, he hit the ladder with bone-jarring agony. When he landed at the bottom, a searing agony had overtaken his leg. He couldn't move. But above him, the trickle of the water from the flood continued to grow. Now it was running like a faucet...

***

Graver saw Abernathy vanish, and he realized that the demented psycho had fallen down the hatch into the bunker below. That was a good twenty foot drop. He was rewarded by screech of pain that echoed up. But he couldn't celebrate. Because Wallace was charging at him. The man was an unstoppable beast, but he was big and clumsy.

Graver side-stepped him, and Wallace bashed against the nearest wall. The entire building seemed to shake.

Quinn was barking at the congregation of confused townies. They were disoriented. Sleepwalkers just waking up. "Let's go! Let's go! Everybody out!"

Smoke was filling the room. Fire danced across the beams overhead. Years of neglect had weakened it all. Pieces of burning walls and ceiling had begun to rain down.

Halley was up too, "C'mon! Let's go!" He helped Galloway to her feet. But Galloway held a look of defiance, gazing into the hole with murder in her eyes.

Wallace reeled around for another charge. He came at Graver, swinging his fists in wide clumsy arcs.

Graver fired at the big man. His shots landed in the convict's abdomen, but that hardly slowed the behemoth. He was a freight train. His weight carried him onward.

Lucy resisted the urge fire on the charging bull. People were now up, streaming past her to get away into the night. There were too many people in her way. She watched Graver dancing with the man like a boxer in the ring, trying to step around him.

Wallace closed the distance on Graver too quickly for another shot. Graver dodge him, and Wallace's enormous fist crashed through a beam that was already on fire. It gave out with a crunch, and portion of the wall fell in, raining dust and embers on both men. The building began to rumble.

The church had transformed into hell. The flood waters continued rage. The entire interior was aflame. Beams and walls began to fall in. The church was rumbling, having come to life to protest its inevitable death.

"This way! This way! This way!" Quinn was shouting, directing the disoriented survivors of the town to the front door.

Halley could see the blood lust in Galloway's eyes. The absolute fury and rage. The humiliated lieutenant wanted to climb into the bunker and finish off Abernathy in the most painful of ways. Hell, Halley wanted to as well.

"Let it go," she told Galloway. "Let him die alone in the dark."

Galloway scowled, resisting the urge to ignore her boss. Halley wouldn't stop her, no matter what she decided. Finally Galloway nodded. Naked and cold, they hurried to the door as the last of the civilians raced out into the night.

"C'mon kid," Halley shouted to Lucy. Lucy was aiming down her sights, watching the fight between Graver and Wallace. Graver was kiting him, and the charging bull of a man was literally wrecking everything in his path.

"You go. I got this," Lucy said without looking away, resting the barrel of the rifle on the back of a pew to steady her aim. She took a knee in the raging water, and lined up her next shot. There was steel in her voice that Halley suddenly didn't recognize. She looked at her young assistant with admiration and respect.

"Don't dally," and Halley was out the door.

Then it was just Lucy, taking aim, just as Wallace made for one final charge. Graver darted behind a support column, expecting Wallace to go around it and miss. Instead, Wallace barreled right through it. Weakened by the flames, it gave out, and then the raging bull was tackling Graver to the ground.

From above came a thunderous crashing as the church ceiling began to break apart. It was all coming down now! There was no time.

Lucy spotted Wallace, having Graver pinned to the floor of the altar, intending to drown Graver in the surging waters. It was now or never. She lined up her sights, said a little prayer, and fired.

***

Abernathy could hear the shouts of his departing flock. They were fleeing for safety. They had gotten away, and with them, they had taken away his fantasy, his plans, his dreams, and his harem of whores. But more than that, they had taken his power. The sweet burning in his abdomen had completely broken his concentration. He couldn't think about anything but the pain in his gut and his broken leg.

But a new horror was urgently needling into his brain. The need to survive-- because there was a cold wet sensation of water pooling around his head and his body.

His bunker was flooding. He tilted his head and saw the muddy waters pouring down the ladder from above like a waterfall. The overflow from Jernigan Creek had grown considerably. He'd stalled for too long, having grown cocky enough to enjoy his playthings, instead of packing them away for later, and now the flood reached the rim of the hatch and it was coming in fast.

He tried to sit up but the pain in his body was intense and burning. He'd been shot. He could barely breathe. His stomach was on fire. He was probably going to die, but all he could think about was getting out of here.

He rolled onto his stomach, splashing in the icy water and crying out from the pain and effort that it took. His lungs ached as he elbow-crawled to the ladder and peered up.

The flames above were casting the inferno in a glowing red. From somewhere deep in the church he heard a gunshot and with it, the crashing sound as the structure gave way and the ceiling started to fall in. He needed to get out now!

The water ran heavily into the shaft, coming down on his face in drenching sheets.

"I'm being baptized," he thought, but had no rational explanation for why it occurred to him.

Doing his best to ignore the pain in his body, he forced himself up the ladder, battling the drenching current, clenching his jaw hard enough to crack several molars in the back of his mouth. The water in the bunker was now up to his knees, and it was only filling faster.

The lights began to flicker as the water reached the generators, and started to short them out.

Burning with the agony, he climbed. Each rung was an eternity.

Halfway up, he heard a new sound that turned his blood to ice. The sound of the church succumbing to the fire that he had started. He stared up at the flames in time to see the roof start to peel away above the hatch, falling...

No!

Forgetting the pain completely, and letting panic power him higher and higher. He reached the top of the ladder, poked his head out and had just the briefest glimpse of Wallace, dead at the altar with a bullet hole in his head. A flash of moment, as Captain Graver and the short young redhead hurried out the door. Then Abernathy glanced skyward just as the piles and piles of flaming wood beams came down in a deadly avalanche. He barely had time to duck back beneath the rim of the hatch before the flaming debris landed on top. The only hatch in and out of his paradise, was now completely cut off. There'd be no escape.

He stared up at it in disbelief. The hatch was still open but it was covered in tons of debris. There were small gaps in the flaming wreckage. Just enough to see the night beyond the mountain of lumber that now imprisoned him in his kingdom, his ark, and his former childhood cell.

He pushed at it desperately, but couldn't budge the ruin of the church that cut off his escape.

The water poured harder into the bunker, rushing in with a dull roar. The flood swept across the opening. The lights below flickered one more time and went out.

Even a bunker this large would fill to the top in no time. There was nothing for him to do but wait for his eventual drowning. Somewhere below him, in the flooded depths and the darkness, he swore he could hear the haunted voice of his long dead grandfather, calling him, welcoming him to the great beyond.

Austin Abernathy began to scream as his salvation became his casket.

***TO BE CONCLUDED IN CHAPTER 12...*