Frank Brown: Ravaged tied family

"Howard, you turn this car around and get back on that highway." June was shouting.

"Jesus Christ!" Randy snapped, covering his ears.

Howard glared into the back seat. "You watch our tongue, young man. Don't think you're too old for a thrashing. I'll give it to you right here, if you ask for it."

Randy closed his eyes and bit his lip.

Howard threw a quick glare at Crystal, as if daring her to say anything, then stepped on the gas. The car jerked forward, leaving the highway with its crawling traffic behind them in a cloud of dust. June muttered to herself, letting out a sharp shriek as the station wagon bounced over a pothole in the rutted clay road. They were heading into another canyon, a narrower canyon, following the tortuous windings of a small stream which flowed below the road at their left.

"Will you all just calm down," Howard said, sounding as if he was trying to calm himself down as well. "I've taken this route before. There's absolutely nothing to worry about. We'll be back on the interstate before you know it. And then we'll find ourselves a campground with a swimming pool."

Randy glanced at Crystal, and they both rolled their eyes! They'd both been through similar routines countless times before.

The road got better, then worse, then better again. In places the road had been washed toward the stream, leaving hardly room enough for the car to squeeze between the drop-off and the wall, of the canyon. If they didn't roll off into the stream or get stuck in a pothole, or blow out a tire on one of the sharp rocks that threatened every few feet, then it would be a miracle.

"Notice the tire tracks," Howard said, his gaze glued to the road ahead as he maneuvered the station wagon. "We're not the only ones who have taken this road recently. It seems as if there are still a few other brave souls left in the world."

"Brave fools," June muttered, but Howard ignored her.

It was about a half hour later, just when Crystal thought they might make it back to the interstate alive, that the other brave souls came into view. Crystal knew they were trouble the moment she spotted them. She'd seen their kind in the movies too many times not to know what they were like.

"Oh, my God!" June said. "Howard, turn around."

"Just stay calm," Howard said. "Nothing to worry about." He waved at the four motorcyclists as he steered past them, giving them a smile.

The four were down at the edge of the stream, their chrome-trimmed cycles parked up above on the road. They resembled four pirates, one of them with his pants off and wading in the stream while he pissed. The pissing cyclist was the only one to acknowledge Howard's wave, holding his beer can up in salute and giving Howard a toothy grin, his red bandana holding his long hair in place. The other three all stared grimly at the passing auto as if either stunned or disturbed by the intrusion. Howard managed to squeeze the car between the cycles and the canyon wall, missing one bike by inches.

"Don't look back," Howard half whispered, although Crystal was already looking back, disturbed by the way the four cyclists seemed to be calling a quick conference.

As soon as the station wagon had rounded the next bend, Howard gave the car more gas.

"What's wrong?" June demanded, sounding half hysterical. "Oh, for Christ sake!" Howard said. "Just stay calm! There's nothing to worry about!"

"I just knew something like this would happen," June said. "They're going to come after us. I just know it."

"Maybe we should've brought your pistol, Dad," Randy said.

"Oh, for Christ sake!" Howard snapped. "Will everybody just shut up and relax! You've all been watching too much Goddamned TV. This is real life, not TV." He started to say more, but his words were drowned out by the droning roar of the four cycles as they suddenly rounded the bend.

Crystal, still looking back, felt her heart swell and tighten in her chest as the four huge cycles and their savage-looking riders slid into view, closing fast on the car. Within seconds two of the growling machines were prowling past the station wagon, one on each side, while the other two cycles fell in behind the car. One bear-like cyclist, a black patch over his left eye, winked at Crystal as he slid by, the sun glinting off his half-bald scalp and off his gold earring. Crystal slid down in her seat, hiding herself like a little girl.

"Holy shit!" Randy said, watching the other cyclist pass on his side. He was a wiry, dark-haired youth.

Crystal caught sight of a large blue swastika tatooed on the youth's bare left shoulder and of a gleaming silver hunting knife, the blade of which was clamped between the youth's front teeth.

"Howard, run them down," June said hysterically. "Kill them before they kill us."

"Let's not lose our heads," Howard said, slowing the car as the two cyclists cut in front of him and decelerated. "They're just playing games."

The huge cyclist suddenly put up his hand and stopped his machine. Howard hit the brakes to avoid hitting him. The cyclists all cut their engines, and suddenly the idling of the station wagon sounded pathetically weak in the stillness of the canyon.

"Stay calm," Howard half whispered, his voice quavering.

The big man swung off his cycle and ambled up to the side of the car. His denim vest, stained with black grease, fell open at the front, displaying his enormous hairy beer belly, which appeared to sway as he walked.

"Afternoon," Howard said, his attempt at a friendly tone completely unconvincing.

The big man walked right past Howard's door, ignoring him. His hairy paw fell on the hand of Crystal's door and he swung the door open with such force that it almost broke off. He grinned down at Crystal with stained and rotted teeth. "Ain't you a perty little bitch!"

As he reached down and grabbed Crystal by her shiny blonde hair, she screamed.

"Hey, what the hell!" Howard shouted, throwing open his door. But before he could get out, a tall blonde cyclist appeared and kicked him in the gut, Howard fell back, gasping.

The big man dragged Crystal out of the car while the other cyclists forced June and Randy out on the other side. Crystal heard her mother screech and heard a loud slap. She heard Randy grunt as he got punched or kneed in the stomach. The big man bear-hugged Crystal, drooling stinking kisses and bites all over her neck and cheeks. He was sweaty, and she itched as he mauled her in his filthy embrace. His hard-on throbbed against her lower belly.

"Digger likes you," the big man growled, forcing off her shorts. He tore the zipper open, then tugged her shorts and panties off with a vicious jerk. The ripped clothing floated down Crystal's naked legs as if made of tissue paper. His hairy paw twisted between her thighs, his fingers pinching the spongy meat of her blonde-furred cunt muff. He screwed a rough finger up her pussy, and she gasped, a shiver passing through her.

"Don't," she whimpered. "Please don't."

Digger laughed, ripping off her T-shirt, nearly pulling off her head in the process. His rough paws slid all over her smooth naked body. She squirmed in his arms, the wiry hairs of his chest and abdomen scouring at her silky young skin. Digger got his fly open and his prick flexed up like a hot tailpipe between her legs.

"Please don't," Crystal cried, pounding at the man's massive chest.

Digger laughed at her attempts to defend herself and stuffed her frantic cries back down her throat with his huge tongue. Gripping her jaw so tightly that his claws penetrated to the bone, he French-kissed her, his spit leaking down her gagging throat, his prick sliding and jerking between her thighs.

Although fighting Digger, Crystal managed to catch glimpses of her father and brother being bound to the motorcycles with clothesline rope, and of the dark-haired youth using his hunting knife to rip the clothes off her mother.