Debauchery Falls Ch 04

*** Disclaimer ***

The following story may contain themes of hypnosis, mind control, non-consent, paranormal, cheating, cuckoldry, voyeurism, incest, gang bangs, and other forms of debauchery. This may not be the story for you.

This is a work of fiction. All characters depicted are at least 18 years of age. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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Debauchery Falls chapter 04

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The air outside was hot and humid. The electricity of the summer storms still lingered. The smell of ozone permeated in thick nauseating breaths.

Andrea fell into step with the four officers. She couldn't resist eyeing them curiously as they left the Sheriff's station. Their black rifles jingled softly against their bulging equipment.

"Well that was unpleasant," Delacruz remarked of their interaction with Sheriff Lowery.

"A real stand-up guy," Foster agreed.

When they got out to the parking lot, Galloway introduced herself to the Tanners. "I'm Lieutenant Galloway," she explained. "This is Sergeant Quinn." She gestured to a big guy with a goatee and a bandanna tied around his short hair-- he had a barrel chest and a funny rigid way of walking. "That's Foster and Delacruz." The two clean cut young soldiers wore caps pulled low against the rain. Foster with a mop of black hair, stubble, and a humor-filled expression. Delacruz with a shaved head and a serious face.

"I'm Brad Tanner. This is my daughter Andrea," he stuck out his hand. Galloway slapped it and met his confused expression with a cheeky grin that Andrea couldn't resist snickering over.

"So the Sheriff thinks you're naughty," Galloway remarked.

"The Sheriff is an idiot," Quinn grunted.

"I mean, I can see how it must have looked," Brad stammered quickly. "We *were* in someone else's house. But we were only looking for answers. We didn't have any intent to--"

Galloway silenced him. "No need to explain it to me. Anyone who pisses off that guy," she hooked her thumb over her shoulder at the station, "are my kind of people."

She didn't like the Sheriff either, Andrea realized. Good. That was something they had in common.

Brad looked over Galloway curiously. "So you're not with the Sheriff's department then? So who are you guys and what are you doing here?"

"Private investigative firm," Galloway said quickly. "We're here for the same reasons you are. To find out where the hell everyone is."

Foster grinned. "You know... just like how all horror movies start."

"Then you should be scared," Delacruz quipped. "It's always the comedian who dies in the worst way."

Foster waved his hand dismissively. "You think I'm the comedian of this group? Hell no. I'm the heartthrob, and the heartthrob always lives."

"Or dies gloriously," Quinn added, stopping beside a pair of rugged Jeep Wranglers. "Shut up and saddle up."

"You ride with us," Galloway said to the Tanners, and wrapped her knuckles on the door of the Jeep.

"Don't trust us?" Andrea rested her hands on her hips, and assumed a defiant posture.

Galloway wasn't put off in the least bit. "Don't trust *them*," she said and nodded again to the substation that they'd just left.

Foster and Delacruz mounted up into one Jeep, while Quinn slid behind the wheel of the other. Brad joined Quinn up front, and Andrea found herself seated in the back beside Galloway.

Andrea eyed Galloway, and when Galloway caught her looking, she covered her tracks with sarcasm. "Do you always hang out in the back seats of cars with girls?" Andrea asked.

"Andrea, for the love of god," Brad sighed from the front seat. He glanced back at Galloway. "I'm sorry for my daughter. She thinks her best approach to people is to make them uncomfortable."

Andrea shook her head and rolled her eyes.

Galloway smirked, unbothered. "So do I," she said, then turned to Andrea and winked seductively. "To answer your question, I only get in the back seat with the feisty ones. Dark hair especially gets me going," she locked eyes with Andrea and snapped her teeth in a playful biting gesture. Andrea's eyes widened for a moment, and she looked away with a blush.

Quinn drove and Brad gave directions up to his daughter's house. They turned onto Beach Street and headed east. "There's no beach, in case you were wondering." Brad Tanner forced the joke, but he was uneasy. He watched the houses as they coasted past. All were dark. Every single one looked haunted. Even the nice homes had transformed into living breathing sentries that watched the pair of Jeeps slip by.

They made Brad shiver.

"So what's your story?" Galloway prodded Andrea.

"Huh?" The girl was momentarily caught off guard.

"I mean, do you do anything other than roll your eyes and cross your arms?"

Andrea looked at Galloway in a huff. But Galloway locked eyes with her and refused to look away first. Her eyes were as blue as the sky, and Andrea suddenly felt intimidated. She looked away quickly. "I didn't want to come out here. But dad made me."

"You don't like your sister or something?" Galloway asked.

Andrea frowned and kept her eyes fixed to the seatback in front of her. Her lips pulled into a scowl like she just smelled something questionable. Finally she answered, "I like my sister just fine. But I don't have any control over what's going on. If everything is fine, then I didn't need to be here. If something is wrong, what can I do about it? Nothing. I'm not helping anyone by being here. So dad should have just left me at home."

"Wouldn't you rather at least know?" Brad asked from the front seat.

Andrea paused for a beat. "No," she said with finality.

"That's because if you don't know, one way or another, it's like time stays frozen," Galloway said knowingly. "Not good news or bad news. Just purgatory, and you prefer that over hearing that she's in trouble. I think you're full of shit."

Andrea glanced over sharply.

Galloway blinked at her, unbothered by her burning glare. "I think your eye rolls and harrumphing is all an act. I think you care more than you pretend to, and you don't want anyone to know." She shrugged. "But what the fuck do I know?"

She turned back to the front as the silent houses melted away, and rolling overgrown fields of grass sprawled out before them. The grasses grew wild, taller than their Jeeps. It reminded Galloway of cornfields in August.

There were no houses in this area.

"Her place is on top of the hill," Brad pointed. Indeed, they could see the pointed roof rising above the grassy hillside. "The driveway is right there."

It was less of a driveway and more of a rutted gravel path that wound its way up the hillside. An iron cross bar blocked the way.

"Looks like they weren't expecting visitors," Brad remarked, seeing the padlock in place.

"On foot from here," Quinn parked and they dismounted their vehicles. They eyed the sky with apprehension. The sun would be setting soon. The light was already fading. In the distance, lightning flickered across the horizon.

***

Rain was drumming off the roof of the RV, creating an isolated cozy effect that put Halley Hargrove into a relaxed lull.

Halley was peering out the window, watching as Lucy was helping Captain Graver unfold a camping style canopy over a folding table. The rain was starting up again, so the two worked quickly.

Despite her warning, Halley didn't mind if Lucy was still hovering around Graver. Now it was for a different reason-- Lucy was still shy around the guys, and she was clinging to someone she knew and felt safe around. Halley couldn't begrudge her that.

"So what do you think?" she asked, nodding to Lucy, who was oblivious to being watched from the trailer.

Officer Brubaker grunted. "Too young."

"She's twenty."

"Still too young." Chick Brubaker was gruff and to the point like that. A forty year old with jet-black spiked hair, and a hard grizzled face, covered in dark stubble.

"Oh c'mon, give her a chance," Halley replied. "She's into older men, I hear." Halley winked, trying to really sell it.

"Have you talked to twenty year olds lately?" Brubaker replied. "They're morons."

"Hey, I heard that," Jessup said from a few feet away.

"You just made my point, kid."

Halley hooked her thumb out the window. "She's not a moron. She's very sharp."

"I didn't finish," Brubaker said. "The ones who aren't knuckleheads, are so shy they're boring. Sorry boss, but call me in about ten years, when she learns how to be interesting."

Jessup scratched his head and gave a confused glance to Halley. "But I thought you told us Lucy was off-limits."

Halley smirked up at him from her computer. "I did, didn't I?"

Jessup looked no less confused.

Brubaker shook his head. "Stupid." He understood. Halley was grateful Brubaker was here. Brubaker got it. And she wasn't sure what she'd talk about with a youngster like Jessup.

"What about you? She's about your age," Halley appraised Jessup. The rookie was certainly fit and tan... she had to give him that...

"I don't know," Jessup leaned over to peer out the window. Halley was treated to a scent of him. He smelled clean and manly.

Out the window, Lucy clumsily dropped one of the tent poles and when she bent over to retrieve it, Jessup was treated to a view of her plump ass bent over in those Daisy Dukes. They rode up into practically nothing, exposing the backs of her thighs and the bottoms of her thick round ass cheeks.

Jessup stood up quickly, in a fluster, and caught a grin from Brubaker. "Look at you with your eyes full of wonder and your pants full of hard-on." Brubaker remarked before stepping away.

Jessup was dismissive. "I don't know," he said again. "I guess Brubaker is right about twenty year olds." He shrugged. "I guess I like them older." He gave Halley an appreciative glance.

Halley met his eyes, her brow cocked. She didn't say anything, and Jessup's smooth expression faded quickly under her scrutiny.

"I didn't mean like... older older," he stammered. "I meant like older like... your age." He winced. "Not that you're old. But like... you know what I mean. Like thirty? Assuming that's how old you are." He reddened.

"For fuck sake, stop saying 'old'," Brubaker shouted from elsewhere in the trailer.

Halley watched Jessup for a bit longer. Though her face didn't let on, she was relishing in the kid's discomfort. It was cute. Finally when she decided she'd tortured him long enough, she allowed a slight smirk. "Smooth," she said. "Do you need a minute to regroup or are you going to piss your pants?"

Jessup barked a nervous laugh, and excused himself to slip away. Halley found herself watching him go. Why not? Her fiancée had his own eye candy outside to distract him. And this Jessup kid had a nice hard butt hidden beneath those fatigues. She may as well allow herself an eyeful. She was only human, and if she was ever going to have a stripper for her bachelorette party, she'd definitely want a kid like Jessup teasing her.

***

As the six of the men hiked up the loose gravel of the driveway in the drizzling rain, Officer Foster fell into step beside Andrea. "So how old are you?" He asked.

"Oh god, here we go," Delacruz snorted.

"Old enough," Andrea replied. She gave him a glance. He was among the younger members of the team. Dark hair. Dark eyes. A couple of tattoos on his arms, he wasn't bad, but she had other things on her mind at the moment. Her skirt fluttered behind her, more playful than she felt. The perky globes of each ass cheek jiggled with each step she took, barely visible to these men. A small guilty part of Andrea kind of liked it.

Galloway glanced over her shoulder at the officer and shook her head slowly. A cautionary look. A motherly look of 'don't embarrass me.' Foster was harmless, but she knew how insufferable he could be.

"What about you?" Andrea asked him.

He grinned. "Twenty five years and my life is still... tryin' to get up this great big hill..." he sang playfully.

Quinn turned to Brad Tanner. "If your older daughter and her husband *are* home, they're not going to shoot us, are they?" Brad understood Quinn's concern. Four men in combat gear approaching a house carrying rifles. And in a town like this, most residents owned firearms.

Brad shook his head.

"Is she really your team leader?" Andrea asked Foster and Delacruz.

"Yes ma'am. She runs the whole tactical branch of our company," Delacruz explained. "She trains us, exercises with us, gives us assignments, remembers the names of our family members, keeps us motivated, and looks out for us. She's always there."

"No matter how hard we try to get rid of her," Foster grinned teasingly.

Galloway held up her middle finger at him without looking back. Her legs strutting a little and her hips popping from side to side. For a second, Andrea thought she was deliberately doing that to tease her.

"Oh there's no getting rid of Galloway," Delacruz admitted. "She's one baaaaad..."

"Shut yo mouth!" Quinn sang playfully back at them.

"I've never met a woman who could make me drool and piss my pants at the same time before," Foster admitted.

"You do that *every* time you meet a woman," Delacruz scoffed.

"Okay, I've got a better one," Foster said, unbothered. "The lieutenant is so hot..." he trailed off. "Okay... this is where you ask 'how hot is she?'"

Again, only silence. Nobody was taking the bait.

He continued. "Anyway, the lieutenant is so hot--"

Galloway interrupted him. "The lieutenant would like you to shut the fuck up now," she said harshly. The men fell silent. After a beat, Galloway turned around and gave a cheerful smile, "But thank you boys for the compliments, they made my night," she curtsied girlishly.

Even Andrea couldn't help but laugh softly. These guys were weird, but they were kind of fun. And Galloway. There was something about her that seemed so chill. Nothing bothered her. Not Andrea's snarky attitude, or the Sheriff throwing his weight around, or these idiots with their bravado. Anything someone threw at her, she'd catch it and toss it back. She kind of admired that. Plus... Galloway was drop dead gorgeous and kind of a bad girl, like her. Andrea might not admit it out loud, but she was a little smitten.

***

At the top of the hour, Halley's voice came in through their ear pieces. "Check in time. How are we doin' out there, recon team? Lincoln?"

Lincoln's soft sexy voice came back a moment later. "Uhm. I have a few things I want to check out. I'll get back to you in a bit." She sounded unsure.

Halley didn't press the issue. "Poe?"

"South east. Clear." His voice came back, hollow and empty. The guy was certainly a mystery.

"Chaney?"

Chaney crouched in the brush along the side of a forest road. He raised his fingers to his radio. "Ditto," he responded a moment later.

"I'll check in again with you shortly," Halley promised. "Don't have too much fun out there."

Chaney tugged his boonie hat low over his brow. It was soggy and wet from the afternoon showers. He glanced at the sky with apprehension. It'd be dark soon. With all the cloud cover, the light would die fast. He frowned.

He caught Poe peering back at him from the shadows beneath the brim of his cap. As if reading Chaney's distain for the weather, Poe remarked, "'A wise man can live comfortably, even in hell.'"

Chaney thought about telling him to fuck off with quotes like that. They weren't in hell. Hell would at least be warm and dry. They were in the middle of a damn monsoon, in a town where even the residents had decided it wasn't worth it.

But Chaney chickened out. Poe gave him the creeps-- which said a lot already, considering very few people actually scared the former Marine Recon member with the shaved head.

Poe looked like Billy Joel combined with a superhero villain. A short Italian man of barely 5'5". Like the singer he had curly dark hair, heavy lidded eyes, a bull dog snout and a protruding chin. But *unlike* Bill Joel, Poe was boasting a set of scars like the Heath Ledger Joker-- old slashes at the corners of his mouth that dug into his cheeks. But the resemblance to the famous Batman villain stopped there. There was nothing lively about Poe. When he looked at you, there was just dead air. His personality... or his sanity... must have been left behind in whatever hell this guy had crawled out from. He was quiet and had a way of just staring until you were uncomfortable enough to get up and walk away.

Chaney had partnered with Poe once or twice, although he would have preferred anyone else-- Quinn, or Brubaker... or even more ideal-- Lincoln or Galloway. He was sure that they could be just as nasty and rugged as Poe, but at least the chicks were pleasing on the eyes.

"Let's just get this over with," Chaney collected his rifle.

They'd been moving down an access road in tandem since infiltrating the town. It hadn't been their first choice to pair up, but along the southern edge of town, they'd found the road-- barely a road. More of a mud path really. But the tire tracks were fresh and unmistakable.

Rather than split up, they decided to work their way along it. The forest was thick and the cover was plentiful. An absolute tunnel of trees. Gnarled branches like fingers stabbed to the heavens and blocked out the sky. Somewhere to the south, they could hear the rushing of the stream-- now turned into a surging river.

The deeper they went, the more uneasy Chaney's feelings had become. The forest seemed much darker along this lonely little road, and trees were twisted and bent-- like he was a lost child in a fairy tale. And Chaney did not want to find the witch at the end of this road.

That feeling wasn't helped when a few minutes ago, Poe had held up his fist, calling a brief halt. He'd smelled smoke. Chaney thought he was crazy. He couldn't smell shit. With this much moisture in the air, there was no way.

They continued on for a ways, leap frogging their way through the forest. At one point, near an abandoned picnic pavilion, the trees to the right parted and Chaney had a view of the rushing brown water of Jernigan Creek.

"Holy shit," he muttered, seeing that the water was close to overflowing the banks. "We should start moving inland," he said to Poe.

But Poe wasn't listening. He was spaced out, staring straight ahead, with his eyes narrowed.

"What?" Chaney asked.

"You see the church?" Poe finally whispered.

Chaney squinted, but he couldn't see anything beyond the fog and the rain and the forest. He only shrugged.

"Stay here, I'm going to check it out."

"Right, good idea," Chaney agreed. Truthfully, he just wanted a break from the rain and a break from Poe.

When Poe slipped away into the underbrush, as soundless as a ghost, Chaney crouch-walked beneath the pavilion and signed with relief. It wasn't exactly the Ritz, but the roof kept the rain off of his already soaked body. He peeled off his boonie hat and ran his hands over his scalp.

Chaney wasn't sure how much time had passed. He sat quietly in the growing shadows, listening to the roar of the river, and the steady drum of the rain. His eyes fixed to the road, in anticipation of any movement.

He normally wasn't bothered by being alone. Even under dangerous circumstances. But there was something about these woods that troubled him. The town was abandoned, and yet he hardly felt alone. And the longer he stayed out beneath the overhang of the pavilion, the more certain that was the case. Towns don't just up and disappear. Especially when the flood waters haven't even spilled over the banks yet. People were stubborn. They'd stay in their homes, even once the river was surging through their living rooms.