Dark Erotic Fiction

The Final Survivor

At the very moment that Holly was fiercely pledging to ensure that the last member of the strike force was caught, Marcelle Fair was leaving her hotel room. Fear had interrupted her uneasy alcohol-induced slumber and forced her to arise early. She decided to get some fruit and coffee, along with a few aspirin to kill her pounding headache. The lobby was brightly lit at the early dawn hour and Marcelle was looking forward to stretching her legs after a light repast in the small hotel cafe.

She saw a small crowd clustered around some sort of exhibit and moved that direction to see what was causing the interest. Upon approaching, she recognized that it was one of the new “display” roasters. She quickly appraised that the unit was just firing up because the women”s flesh was still blemish-free and remained the gorgeous alabaster of chilled blood-free girl meat. She gasped when she realized that one of the four women, a big busty brunette was still alive. Stinging tendrils of salty oil were making her eyes blink and occasionally small quivers shook the tightly trussed long pig. Her plump breasts were already a dull blue from her constricting bondage.

Each girl”s hair had been pulled back painfully tight in a ponytail, secured with a nylon tie, and then hacked off just below that point, leaving only a ragged inch-long ponytail. The gutting process on three of the women helped emphasize their tiny waists and made their breasts and thighs seem larger.

Marcelle gasped in sudden recognition of one of the three dead women. She”d just recognized Mary Hess, the FREEDOM Cell Resistance Leader that controlled her BEACON Team. “She”s spitted and roasting. Oh, crap! Mary Hess has already been caught and killed,” she told herself with horror. “I never heard about this on the news.”

She stepped back and studied the scene again. “Mary and the other one are young, probably college aged. The other two are older, but with bigger frames and much larger breasts; although the dead one is blonde.” Marcelle struggled to remember if she”d seen either of the other two dead women or the live brunette at some point in her past. Eerily, the big-titted brunette seemed to wink furiously and even wiggle a bit each time she came around and faced Marcelle. The resistance fighter was just deciding that freeing the brunette might be a required course of action when a woman beside her giggled.

“Look, Herald, - no matter where we stand, - the live one”s eyes seem to follow us.”

Another man interjected, “Yeah, it”s the same with me from where I”m standing. Kinda weird, huh? Almost like that Mona Lisa painting, - right?”

That reality check sobered Marcelle. She shook herself with the certainty that it”d been her imagination that the doomed brunette was trying to contact her. Marcelle said a final mental goodbye to Mary Hess, and left without a backward glance.

Behind her in the display cooker, Sheila Mull groaned in realization that no miracle was going to save her. She”d struggled with every bit of her strength to contact Marcelle Fair through the glass front of her enclosure. Her presence at the window had seemed her salvation. Any delicious thoughts of potential revenge against Holly for betraying her vanished along with the departing member of BEACON Team.

Having lost her appetite, along with her pounding headache, Marcelle Fair then spent the morning shopping. The depressing realization that overnight two highly-trained teams and a leadership cell were completely destroyed had been almost overwhelming. The skewered form of Mary Hess, who she thought was an Underground Railroad leader, had been the final straw.

Her first purchase of the day had been at an upscale leather goods store to replace her travel-worn school backpack. Next, she replaced her college wardrobe with expensive business attire that matched the classy valise she”d purchased. As she progressed from shop to shop, Marcelle slowly discarded anything that tied her to the disastrous Underground Railroad membership, to St. Julia College, in the city of Hutchinson Kansas, or even the appearance of being a coed.

The local and national news outlets were in full crisis mode; building up hysteria about other potential attacks by the Underground Railroad. Candace Walter”s head exploding in a spray of red gore was at the top of every news story. Marcelle knew that she was in serious trouble and feared that news rumors of a well-placed anti-slavery mole in Eastlake may been the reason her organization had been so easily wiped out. “A traitor,” she whispered cautiously. “Could a traitor have exposed us?” Marcelle decided it didn”t matter, her mission was now to survive. “I”ve already done my bit against slavery,” she told herself. “Now, I have to move on and try and make a new life.”

“An anonymous spokeswoman for the New Underground Railroad just released this statement,” Marcelle heard as she walked past an electronics outlet. She paused to listen.

The newswoman continued her story. “The New Underground Railroad has distanced themselves from “the misguided act of violence that killed innocents and slaves in Eastlake, Ohlahoma. Our policy,” they said “is to change laws and to free women enslaved in violation of moral codes founded upon our basic humanity. We are not like the animals that enslave, murder, and eat our own.“”

Back outside Magnus Hotel, the shaken woman paused and considered her options before she went in to her room. Marcelle now knew that she was the sole survivor of BEACON Team and there had been little information about the specific survivors of ANVIL Team other than she knew they were in the hands of the notorious slaver Mike West. The FREEDOM Cell Leadership of the New Underground Railroad Movement had likely been quashed permanently. Given the announced capture of Wendy Adler and Anne Kinison at the very truckstop they”d departed from the night before, the entire movement was being described as collapsed because it had been full of empty-headed young twits. The news reports were gleefully playing up the story of how once the two truck drivers realized who they”d given rides to, they”d quietly taken the wrong interstate highway ramp and returned back toward Eastlake. Wendy and Anne were described as brainless, self-deluded girls too stupid to remain free. NMG was highlighting their capture as proof that the WSA 2000 laws were wise and protected the public from similar delusional idiots.

Holly, NMG executives, SWAT teams, and literally hundreds of news cameras were on hand to capture the anticlimactic turn-over of the two stunned women. Holly released a press release stating that NMG planned to request an uncontested right of purchase from Federal Prosecutors given they were the target of that group”s terrorist scheme. They hoped to overrule the politically motivated ploy of the female State Prosecutor to interfere in the case.

During that morning, Marcelle disposed of all the identification she”d managed to find from her ill-fated team, even her own. A surprise among the pile of documents had been the discovery of a false ID that Candace Walters had left in her purse. Given their resemblance and age, Marcelle decided to assume the fictitious identity of Anna Young, a blonde girl her same age, height, and weight. “Thankfully,” she mumbled, “I”ve never had my fingerprints taken so changing my identity should work if this false ID is any good.”

Her mind made up, Anna Young turned away from the hotel and hailed a taxi cab. She told the cabbie to take her to the nearest salon. “I”ve never been a blonde,” she told herself almost cheerfully given the traumatic events of the last hours. “And, I”ve got enough cash to open a local bank account and get a fresh start at the university here in Eastlake.” Anna also decided that like mice during the last ice age, “she”d be humble, quiet, and stay out of sight.”

Holly paced the floor of Marcelle”s empty hotel room. Sheila”s computer files had easily given up the identity of the remaining team member. Completely focused on her mission to capture the last remaining FREEDOM Cell member, Holly had reviewed the hotel security tapes from the night before. She”d easily recognized the brunette checking in just moments after Gabrielle Crooks because of the photos in Sheila”s extensive computer files.

Desperate to eradicate the last link to her hotel and the subsequent murders that Holly had done in order to protect herself, she”d charged upstairs to Marcelle”s room. “Where the hell is she?” Holly muttered angrily. Her police baton was put away down in her office, but a bulge in her pants pocket concealed the taser that Holly intended to use as soon as she spotted Marcelle Fair.

Hours later, she returned to her office and reviewed the computer-based security videos to remove any visual sign that tied her to the women or even that they”d been in the hotel at all. Discovering that two of the rooms were taken with false identities and that Marcelle had used a dead teammate”s credit card only as identification before paying cash had been a huge relief. “I don”t have to leave records that they even entered. Ah, here”s the piece showing Marcelle Fair leaving this morning.” Holly sighed and then deleted that entry as well.

Inwardly, she prayed that nothing from the three rooms rented the night before would be linked back to the resistance movement. “Sheila, your passion for security might save my ass. You might have hidden my existence from your Benefactor. Now, I have to get the vans taken care of. Maybe there will be a good ending to this mess. Maybe, - oh, merciful deities, I hope so.”