"Did she talk?" In a state of semi-consciousness, Karen heard a woman's voice asking.
"Hell, not one fucking word!" She recognized the coarse voice of Benno, the most ruthless among the men who had raped her and tortured her continuously for the past ten or fifteen hours. He spat a chewing gum on the floor and let out his infuriating frustration: "How long have I been doing this job, Megan? Ten years, maybe? Tell you what, all these fucking years I've never come across a tougher nut to crack. This little bitch is something else."
"Don't tell me you guys can't handle a sixteen-year-old baby doll, Benno," the woman sneered. "You just have to stop fooling around with her pussy and take the job seriously."
"Bullshit, Megan!" the man roared. "Go take a look at that bloody mess we made of her. We gave her the best there is, for Christ's sake."
"We'll see."
Karen sagged motionlessly in chains as the woman's high-heels clicked towards her on the cement floor, followed by Benno's heavy boots. She was spreadeagled with her back against the stone wall of an old wine cellar, her toes barely touching the ground. The rough granite felt like ice on her bare skin, but this had become hardly noticeable compared to the fierce pain she was suffering.
The woman began to removed the long needles pierced into Karen's breasts and nipples. The young girl's muscles twitched as the dull soreness was revived into sharp pain, but she bit on her lips, and hanged her head in silence, trying her best to appear unconscious.
Suddenly, some stinging liquid was splashed over Karen's chest, and for a moment she thought her breasts had caught fire. Drawing a mouthful of cold air in the sudden agony, she threw back her head almost without realizing it. The back of her head hit the hard stone, almost knocking her out.
The strong smell of alcohol invaded her nostrils. "You need medical treatment, honey," the woman smiled at Karen. "But for now, this will have to do."
The woman appeared to be in her early thirties, slightly over- weight, but still quite pretty. She lifted Karen's face by her chin, and blew a puff of smoke in her face.
"Karen, right?" the woman asked casually, as if they had just met on a social occasion. "I'm Megan O'Brien. Did Johnny and his buddies ever mention my name to you?"
Karen did not answer, but a rush of shivers ran through her body. The guys in Johnny's gang had indeed often mentioned this name, and never without fear in their eyes. As she learnt that this woman controlled more than half of the county's cocaine supply, the name had been deeply branded in her mind as a synonym to Devil. However, she found it difficult to associate this dreaded name to the gentle-looking young woman standing in front of her, whose neatly combed, shoulder-length straight hair and conservative attire made her virtually indistinguishable from any other business woman in town.
"I admire your courage, Karen," Megan offered her cigarette to Karen's lips, and apparently took no offense when the young girl refused.
"I really do," she went on, "'cause I have been where you are before. You see, years ago, when I was your age, I was once snatched by the Jamaicans downtown, and it took them only about an hour before I told them everything they wanted to know. You are truly amazing, Karen."
As she continued the monologue, Megan nonchalantly ground out her cigarette on Karen's breast, and picked up an electric hand drill from a crowded shelf. Aiming the drill-head to Karen's chest, she tested the terrifying tool threateningly: "But then again, we haven't tried the real stuff on you yet."
Karen was caught in a small panic. Over the hours since she was brought to this make-shift torture chamber, she thought she had been subjected to every form of torture Man had ever known. When Benno and his accomplices left her for hours hanging by all fours over a pile of burning coal, she concluded that hell itself would not be much worse. But the buzzing electric device in Megan's hand suddenly revealed to her that the worst was still to come.
She began to have difficulty in breathing when the cold, sharp drill-head was pressed against her left nipple. She turned her head aside, and squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation of the deadly assault.
But Megan was in no hurry. "All we want from you is a simple address, the address where Johnny is hiding. You see, he stole from us, and we have to get together and talk things over. But this doesn't concern you at all. We really had no reason to hurt you if you'd be just a little bit more cooperative. Now, why don't you give me the address and get this whole thing over with?"
For a short while there was absolute silence in the cellar. The only sound that echoed between the stone walls was from the chains holding the girl captive, which jingled faintly as Karen's limbs trembled despite of herself.
Then the hand drill started to buzz.
Indescribable pain exploded in Karen's left breast. In total disorientation, she found herself arching her back forward to the advancing drill head instead of withdrawing from it. Her limbs twisted and struggled within the confines of the chains, and she heard a animal-like shriek that she could hardly recognize as her own voice.
The sharp steel invader pressed on steadily in the soft tissues of Karen's breast, until it met the resistance of a rib. Then it was pulled out abruptly.
"Well?" Megan smiled calmly, as if nothing had happened. "Do you remember the address now, Karen?"
A few minutes elapsed before Karen could manage to say anything. Her mouth was wipe open, but she was too busy gasping for air. Over the gentle slopes of her waled breast, streams of blood trickled down to her equally battered belly and thighs.
"I, I, I really," at last she cried out between short gasps, "really don't know..."
Her answer was cut short by a new wave of piercing pain befalling her right nipple. Karen was sure she started screaming again, but before she could hear anything, darkness descended over her eyes.
She came to after someone drenched her with several buckets of ice-cold water. Her whole body was shaking uncontrollably, but she did not know whether it was because of the chilling temperature or the unbearable pain. For a time she could not even remember where she was. A nightmare she had had many years before floated vaguely through her mind, where she, swimming alone in the dark ocean, was cornered between two gigantic icebergs and crushed to pieces.
She felt something cold and soft being stuffed into her sex, and the stinging sensation in her vagina brought her back to the reality of the torture chamber.
Megan was holding a small cotton ball in front her face when she opened her eyes. "It's alcohol," she let Karen smell the cotton ball and explained. "And I have stuffed plenty of these down there. They are very good memory-refreshers."
She stroke a match and held it a few inches in front of Karen's face: "Can you imagine what happens if I move this match down there? I'll give you ten seconds to think about it."
Ten seconds passed. The match burnt to the end and was dropped to the floor. Megan shook her head and heaved a sigh: "I feel sorry you are so stubborn. What a shame!"
She stroke another match. This time she held it directly under Karen's sex.
"Well?" Megan stared menacingly into the young girl's eyes. "Do I get an answer or not?"
Completely panic-stricken, Karen opened her mouth to speak, but somehow no words came out of her throat. She seemed to be choking on an invisible gag.
Megan was at the end of her patience. Slowly she moved the match up, till Karen's widely exposed sex was suddenly engulfed in a light blue ball of fire.
First consumed in the flame were Karen's remaining public hairs, those that Benno had missed when he sadistically pulled them out with a pair of pliers. Soon to follow was her last bit of will to resist. As her body fat began to sizzle out of her lower belly, Karen heard herself, for the first time, crying out for mercy.
The small flame burnt itself out after what seemed to be hours. In the last seconds of consciousness before darkness descended again, Karen struggled to yield the secret that she had so far struggled to keep: "The old railroad warehouse...by the river...on Whisky Valley Road..."
An hour later, Karen was standing in the deep snow a few hundred yards from the abandoned railroad warehouse, still stark naked. Her hands shackled in front of her, she leaned wearily at the two men holding her by the arms. From her hanging head, the long wavy blond hair, here and there stuck in bunches with blood, draped over her bare breasts and belly, as if in a futile attempt to protect them from the freezing gale.
Megan walked up through the snow. Pulling the girl's head up by her hair, she informed Karen: "I'm glad you didn't lie to us. We got here a bit too late, but Johnny was here, just moments ago, I'm sure. Oh, and he wasn't here alone. We found traces of two people in the warehouse, and we found this."
A red lace bra swung in the wind from Megan's fingertips, the sight of which swept Karen's legs from under her.
Dropping the bra unceremoniously into the snow, Megan continued: "The sleeping bag was still warm when we got in. So Johnny can't be too far away. But there's no way we can find him in the dark. He'll have to come out by himself."
A cruel grin appeared on the corners of Megan's mouth, but Karen was in no condition to sense the impending danger. It was not until Megan had chained her handcuffs to the back of a pickup truck that Karen's fears were aroused.
"Please...don't hurt me any more..."
Megan turned away as if not hearing her young victim's feeble plea. Forming her hands into a megaphone around her mouth, she yelled into the dark night: "Johnny! I know you are out there! We've got Karen. Better come out right now if you want to see your sweetheart alive again!"
The only response were her own echoes, and the whispers of the pine trees.
"He won't listen to me, for sure," Megan turned around and sighed. "Maybe the little honey's screams will work better. Benno, start the truck."
Suddenly realizing the woman's evil plan, Karen gathered up all her remaining strength to escape the grip of the two men holding her. She hobbled towards Megan and fell to her knees, grabbing Megan's fur coat in her chained hands: "Please...don't do this to me! I beg you... I've already told you what you wanted..."
"I'm afraid we have to," Megan answered coldly, without looking at the kneeling girl. "There's no other way we can get him out of where he's hiding."
"But he won't come out!" Karen raised her face to Megan in a desperate plea for mercy, tear drops twinkling in her face in the hazy moonlight. "He won't! 'Cause I led you here...and he already has another..."
"Then it's too bad," Megan glanced at Karen's battered body and shook her head. "But anyway, I wouldn't want to live like this if I were you. I'm afraid we have pretty much wasted your body for good. Now good-bye, Karen!"
The truck jerked back and forth in the snow, and then abruptly took off. Karen jumped to her feet and tried to follow, but tripped on the chain between her ankles. She cried out when her chest and belly hit the hardened surface of the snow, and the moans and whimpers soon turned into blood-curdling shrieks when the snow was replaced by rough gravel and pavement.
The next morning, early commuters were shocked to find a half mile stretch of roadway crisscrossed by trails of blood and littered with tiny pieced of flesh. The police was called in, and immediately they suspected a possible linkage between the horrifying scene and the disappearance of young Karen Evans, home- coming queen of Madison High School. But the girl's body was never recovered, in spite of a massive search involving over a hundred police officers from three different agencies, more than three hundred fire fighters and volunteers, several teams of police dogs and two army helicopters. Without a body, no positive identification could be established of the human remains found on Whisky Valley Road, and to this day Karen is still officially listed as missing, not murdered.
However, friends and relatives of the ill-fated girl have no doubt what was found was indeed the remains of poor Karen. They insist that whenever they drive past that dreadful section of the road at night, Karen's screams and cries can be heard clearly echoing through the valley.
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