A story based in the real world. For some reason, a high school boy named J.J. went to sleep and didn't wake up for nearly 3 years. Someone else was awake in his place ...

		Sacrificial Alter Chapter 12 of 13 Deliver Us From Evil by **Sigh** Copyright© 2017 plaintivesigh All Rights Reserved.

“HOLY SHIT!”

Finny was sitting in his SUV, watching and listening to the goings on via electronic feed. He had been on high alert when he saw the scene outside – but this new man’s vicious attack suddenly sent his brain into five-alarm panic. He furiously dialed 911 on his cell phone and began to don his Kevlar vest.

Dustin dragged the limp, unconscious body of his mother away from the front doorway and down the hall. He dropped her at the window area, and then closed the louvers. He then glanced at the girlish person he once knew as his brother; she was still Kitty, going “NNNnnnNNNNnnn.”

“Man, J.J. You really got screwed up, didn’t you? That’s freakin’ hilarious.” He walked back and closed the front door. “Unfortunately, what I needed was for you to get dead. Now, this is a mess … and unlike last time, I’m not sure how to cover it up.”

Dustin mused for a minute over the heap he had made of his mom and Kitty, lying together in the hallway. ““Okay, I think this is the best thing I can figure. Hopefully my prior talk with Mom has the PD looking out for Dad, not me. That buys me a small piece of time. I’ll take both of you, drop you deep in the ‘glades, and then start over in Mexico.” He shook his head. “Mexico. Lousy roads for trucking.”

“Why?”

Dustin looked up. “Who said that?”

“Me. Down here. J.J.” Kitty’s alter was gone, and Dustin’s younger sibling was back. “Why, Dustin? I heard what you said. You said you ‘covered it up last time’. You were the one who killed Missy and sold me into slavery, weren’t you? You’re my brother. Why did you do that? Did you go crazy like I did?”

Dustin smirked. “You want the truth?”

“Yes.”

“YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH! Jack Nicholson, A Few Good Men. Ha! – this is my new hobby, quoting my favorite movie scenes. Okay, so you’re not impressed. I thought it was funny. Let’s see, where were we – oh yeah, you asked if I was crazy. NO. NOT crazy like you. I mean, you are one hell of a basket case. Kitty? Weird.

“I do have a diagnosis, though – a severe case of antisocial personality disorder. A shrink said I have a ‘disturbing absence of a conscience’; I prefer to see it as wonderful freedom from any sort of guilt. I can do anything I want, as long as I plan well so I don’t get caught. Does that answer your question?”

J.J. swallowed hard. “What did Missy Renquist ever do to you?”

“Not Missy. Missy’s older sister, Pam,” Dustin barked. “You ever see Pam? Biggest boobs in school? Get a boner just coming within 50 feet of her? Well, at least I did. Pam refused every attempt I made to have her go out with me when we were in high school. That was bad enough, but then years later I hear that my brother got Pam’s younger sister to go to the homecoming dance. I mean, that was humiliating, you showing me up like that. Even though I was out of school and into trucking by then, it burned me up to think ol’ Dustin was being out-done by his skinny younger bro.

“So I drove down from Tampa that night to get some revenge. I had planned on just scaring you guys with a knife and ski mask, but when I get here and snuck in – you had bedded her! Both of you, snoozing away under the covers, all post-coital. You fucking prick. If I couldn’t get a Renquist in bed, you had no right to. I felt a huge release – a lot better, I’ll tell you – when I had stabbed her in her sleep. You, I put a sack around your head, zip tied your hands and feet, and popped you with some sedatives I had on me; then I butt-fucked you. So only your DNA was on Missy, and I still got my rocks off. Genius, right?

“Then I took you in my truck to Tampa – I know, I know, this is long, I’m wrapping it up – kept you drugged up, and had you ‘dolled up’ by a reliable whore I know. Advertised you on the black market, and sold you to two guys in Brazil looking for a young white boy to enslave. It was perfect: they would use you until you got too ugly or old, and then kill you. You’d be the one pegged for the girl’s death. And I made a lot of cash by your sale. Worked out good all around. Then Mom calls me to say you’re back. Damn. So … here we are. And over there, how convenient … is Mom’s shotgun.”

“SHIT! SHIT-SHIT-SHIT!”

Finny jumped out of his Tahoe. The cops were supposed to be on their way, but unless they arrived in the next thirty seconds or so they would be too late. He ran towards the Evarist house, Glock in his right hand.

Meanwhile, the man in the denim jacket had parked his motorcycle half a block behind the black Tahoe. He was walking up towards the big vehicle from the back; he was finally going to confront this bounty hunter. Then he saw Finny emerge and run towards a home straight ahead.

The biker decided not to follow his target into a strange house, so he waited by the SUV for Finny’s return. As he removed the baseball bat from underneath his jacket, he heard the laptop computer in the truck seat broadcasting voices.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, he realized: he knew one of those voices.

The teenager kissed his unconscious mother, and then stood to face Dustin.

“I’m going to stop you.”

“You? Heh,” laughed the psychopath. “Buddy, even when you were still male, you never were able to fight me. And now, like this? You definitely can’t beat me. But I’ll tell you what: since you’ve become a fine piece of ass, you can let me fuck you – how about that?”

He grabbed his younger brother by the neck and jerked him close, forcing a kiss for a few disgusting seconds. Then Dustin grabbed both of his sibling’s forearms so the hands were pointed up. “Want to fight me, J.J.? Go ahead; make my day. Clint Eastwood, Sudden Impact.”

The teen responded by quickly twisting the left arm inward then down and out, surprisingly breaking the trucker’s grip. Left elbow now pointing up, it slammed mightily into Dustin’s face, causing him to let go of the right arm. Now the teen’s right palm base popped the throat of her attacker, while her slender left leg looped behind Dustin’s; her hand grabbed the scruff of his shirt collar and yanked it back and down. Dustin smacked to the floor on his back and hit his head. “J.J.??” he urked.

The girlish figure had jumped high off the floor above the stunned man; she now shouted –

“No, dickhead! NOVA!”

– then landed with a mighty one-footed stomp directly in Dustin’s groin. “I know how to fight, you FUCKING RAPIST PIECE OF SHIT!”

As the trucker yelled out in agony, Nova quickly scanned the room. Where is it now? Ah! Over there by the wall. She ran and picked up her mother’s shotgun. She turned and pointed it at Dustin. “Freeze, or I’ll blow you to hell!”

“Nah, you won’t, ‘Nova’, or whoever you are now. You’re a no-nonsense bitch, I can tell. If you knew how to shoot that thing, you would’ve already killed me.” Dustin jumped up. “That’s the cool thing about having dope in your system; you recover quicker from pain.” He lunged and grabbed the weapon from Nova, and cocked it properly, then aimed at the girl. “Time to go nite-nite forever – huh? What’s that?”

Dustin had caught something out of the corner of his eye as he stood by the hall window. Between the drawn mini-blinds and the window edge, the front yard was partially visible; and he saw a man with a handlebar mustache, sunglasses and a pistol running up to the front entry.

Dustin raced to the front door and hid behind the hinged edge.

The doorknob turned quickly but silently, and Finny stepped in with gun drawn in classic two-handed grip. But despite all his training he could not overcome the element of surprise, for as soon as he turned –

BLAMM!

A shotgun blast exploded into his chest. He flew backwards through the air and slammed down on his back, sliding a little more down the hall before stopping.

“Time to wrap this up. The door was open, so someone else probably heard that.” Dustin walked to where his new kill was. As he did so, Nova attempted to tackle him from behind; however, he was ready for her. He shook her off and used the shotgun like a club to pound on her head until she tumbled to the floor.

Finney moaned. Dustin marveled. “You’re still alive? INCONCEIVABLE! Princess Bride, I forget the actor. Oh, here’s why. Damn boy, you’ve got on the thickest bulletproof vest I’ve ever seen! Too bad it’s mush now, or I’d take it. Oh my … but I WILL take THIS jewel … “ He lifted a stun gun out of the bounty hunter’s pant pocket. “A Cobratek! You could take down a gorilla with one of these!”

“Okay, how to do this,” Dustin thought out loud. “I dunno who this dude is, but I’ll blow his head off with another shotgun blast, then plug Mom and J.J. with his Glock. Wipe my prints off, plant the Glock on him and the shotgun on J.J., and we have an unfortunate home invasion where everyone killed each other. And no one alive to peg me with anything, including Missy Renquist’s murder. I love it when a plan comes together! – Liam Neeson, The A-Team.”

“Mom and Dad,” Nova moaned on the floor as she bled from her head, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, J.J. and Kitty. And Sabio, my love; I’m so, so sorry.”

Dustin sneered as he aimed the pistol at her skull. “Love means never having to say you’re sorry; Ryan O’ Neal, Love Sto-“

WHOPP!

Dustin fell to the ground, neutralized. He’d been hit in the head from behind, and hit hard. His brain struggled to keep conscious as he tried in vain to pick himself up; then he noticed a man stooping over him. This man had a baseball bat, and wore a blue jean jacket. A denim-clad arm reached down to the floor to pick up something Dustin had dropped: the Cobratek.

This angry young newcomer – he looked to be Latino – jammed the electric leads of the stun gun to Dustin’s neck; his finger was on the button, ready to press.

“You like movies, filho de puta (son of a whore)? Here is one: My name is Sabio Santiago!”

ZAP!

“You try to kill my Nova!”

ZAP!

“Prepare to die!”

ZAP ZAP ZAP ZAP ZAP!

To be continued tomorrow.

Thanks for reading! **Sigh**