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“Our guests go missing all the time,” she replied haughtily.
“How are you going to explainsevenpeople missing from your resort?” he asked. “Our families know that we’re here. We’ve posted all about it on our social media feeds.” His arm reached around to pull me closer to him. “One person getting lost in the thick of trees might be believable, butseven?”
Marilyn sneered, “No need to worry about us. We’re resourceful.”
“Okay, we’ve wasted enough time,” Richard announced. “Grab her, tie the others up until we can figure out how to get rid of them. Maybe a car wreck will work.”
Cree pulled Lulee behind him again. “You’re not getting anywhere near her.”
The sound of a gunshot rattled my ears, and Cree’s cries shook the rafters as he fell, grabbing his left leg. Donovan had shot him in the knee, and I rushed over, not caring about anything else. The pain had to be unimaginable, and if we did get out of here alive, Cree might never be the same.
“Oh, God,” I choked out as I pulled him against me. “It’s okay, Cree…it’s okay.”
“You motherfuckers!” Lulee screamed, and when I looked up, she was charging a laughing Donovan, but Richard intercepted her before she could attack his son.
Marilyn let out a heavy sigh. “Well, now that you’ve shot him, we’ll have to dispose of him like these other two.” The batshit crazy bitch shook her head solemnly. “There’s no guarantee that the police will not investigate a car wreck.”
“You guys are fucking crazy,” Saint bit out. “You are absolutely off your nut.”
“We are not crazy,” Marilyn bristled. “We are doing The Lord’s work.”
“Murder is not The Lord’s work!” I yelled as I pulled Cree closer to me, his grunts of pain tearing me apart. Still, no matter how much pain he was in, I knew that it was killing him to see Lulee struggling in Richard Clark’s arms.
“Why isn’t it?” she challenged. “If you’d read your Bible, you’d know all about Sodom and Gomorrah.” The nutty crackerjack lifted her chin. “This is no different. However, instead of ridding the entire world of its filth all at once, we’re doing it sinner by sinner.”
“There’s no way that you’re going to be able to get away with this,” Saint repeated.
“Keep it up, and I’ll shoot you just to get you to stop fucking talking,” Donovan snapped.
“No need for the harsh language,” Marilyn chastised, looking over at her son. “Perhaps some more time with Sarah might calm you down a bit.”
His hazel eyes glowed with depravity. “There’s really not much left of her. She’s torn too wide to feel anything anymore.”
“Jesus Christ,” Saint swore as I bit my lip to keep from throwing up again.
My heart started beating frantically when I saw Donovan looking Lulee’s way. “I think I should see ifshecan calm me down.” Lulee started struggling harder. “She might be a whore, but she’s still in better shape than Sarah right now.”
“I’ll fucking kill you,”Cree hissed, his pain slashing at me with each word.
Before any of us could say or do anything more, Lulee was cracking Richard’s chin with the back of her skull, causing him to step back as he grabbed his face.
“You fucking bitch!”
As soon as Donovan pointed the gun at Lulee, Saint was racing across the room, tackling Donovan to the ground, but not before Donovan got another shot off, hitting Lulee square in the chest.
“Lulee!” Cree yelled, her body falling lifelessly to the floor.
“Get off him!” Marilyn screamed at Saint, and that’s what snapped me out of my shock.
Jumping up from the floor, I looked around, then grabbed the first thing that resembled any kind of weapon. Luckily for me, we were in the pantry storage, so I was able to grab two metal cans of soup, and with all my fucking might, I hurled the cans at Marilyn Clark, striking her with the first can.
“Richard!” she cried as she fell to the floor, trying to ward off the attack. However, I was out of control with fear and rage. I was unstoppable as I kept throwing whatever I could at her.
“Marilyn!’ Richard thundered, racing over to save his wife, leaving his son to suffer the brutal beating that Saint was heaping on him.
Like a crazy person, I was throwing everything that I could get my hands on, and I saw my opportunity when Richard covered his wife with his body, more interested in protecting her than stopping my assault.
Grabbing a bottle of olive oil, I smashed it in half, then jumped on Richard Clark’s back, jamming the broken glass into the side of his neck. He stood up, staggering back, as blood erupted from his veins like an exploding volcano. He was grabbing at his neck, trying to pull the bottle free, but there was too much blood for him to get a good grip.
