Chapter 17

The old Ford crept up to the cabin. It was Wednesday, a day later than Izzie had anticipated, and he was angrier than ever. But at last his car had been fixed, and Harold, Millie's son, was with him.

Harold was six-feet-two-inches tall, extremely dull-witted, which was why he was made a boot camp training sergeant and was unable to rise higher, with muscles like a gorilla, and a face to match. At the moment he was wearing a simple pair of black slacks, a green shirt, and an old combat jacket to keep out the October cold.

Izzie, wearing an old gray suit that had been rumpled ten years earlier, saw the Imperial and knew Tom and Susan were in the cabin. He parked his car next to the Imperial, then he and Harold got out and walked up to the front door. He banged on the front door, and when the door opened, he pushed his way past Tom into the large single room, snapping, "May ve come in?"

Tom took one look at Harold and knew better than to argue with Izzie. He waited until the lumbering hulk had walked in, then shut the door, and said, "What the hell do you want, and who the hell are you?"

"Izzie!" Susan gasped, stepping out of the bedroom wearing a frilly pink dress.

Tom was in shirtsleeves, with blue slacks, and it was obvious he hadn't appreciated Izzie's interrupting. Izzie didn't give a damn.

"I'll be brief," Izzie said to Tom. "You brought dis voman here against her vill, undt you raped her. Here is der effidence."

He produced the pictures of Tom with Susan, the ones he had taken the previous Sunday evening.

"You know this turd?" Tom asked Susan, referring to Izzie.

"Yes," she quietly admitted.

Turning to Izzie, he said, "Get the fuck out of here right now, you and Godzilla, or I swear there'll be hell to pay."

Izzie turned to Harold and said, "Take care uff him."

Harold, who had lived almost all his life getting into and out of fights, grabbed Tom, and with one arm around the man's body to keep him from using his own hands, applied pressure on the man's carotid arteries using his fingers and thumb, and Tom blacked out.

"Now," Izzie said, turning to Susan. "You vill come vit' me. If he tries to follow, ve haff der evidence dat he raped you. I can alvays claim Harold here vas vit' me undt saw vhat happened."

"No!" Susan gasped. "It's a lie! I won't come with you."

"You come vit' me, or else Harold will kick your boyfriend's brains oudt uff his head."

"That's murder!" Susan screamed.

"Ve'll claim ve vere passing undt heard you scream. Dat, or I'll tell how you called me up undt asked me to come up here undt safe you from dis man. No court in der vorld vill convict us. So come!"

"Never!" Susan screamed, rushing to the unconscious body of Tom and checking him over to make certain he was all right.

"Bring her!" Izzie commanded. "I t'ink she needs a lesson. Dere's a motel not too far from here vhere, bet-veen der two uff us, ve can teach dis bitch not to giff us a hard time."

Harold didn't bother responding. He wasn't very good when it came to difficult things, like talking. He saved his strength for fighting and fucking, and from what Izzie was hinting, there was going to be some fucking.

Susan scratched the words Raynor Motel on a table-top just before Harold bodily picked her up and carried her out of the cabin.