A sudden jerk of the steering wheel and the TOYOTA Land Cruiser swerved to the left before hurtling down the rutted road.
Liam was constantly tapping his fingers on the chipped leatherette. He couldn't hide his nervousness, he didn't like this kind of mission. Killing intruders was one thing. But from there to lug them to the bottom of the woods and execute them took on a form of sadism in the that he did not really assume.
The priority was still the mental health of the community. And most thought that the "strays" were being escorted away from the shelter. Few suspected that they were being buried with a bullet in their head to preserve the fragile balance they had painfully sacrificed.
To make matters worse, Fat Louis was snickering with that pig-like cackle that had a way of getting on everyone's nerves. Liam could see him in the rearview mirror enjoying the situation. The girl couldn't have been twenty years old. Skinny as a rail, but pretty. A strip of industrial tape over her mouth, her hands tied behind her back, Louis wasn't risking much.
As the kilometers passed, he became enterprising, slipping his pudgy hands under the girl's tank top to knead her bakelite breasts. She had too much pride to fight or cry, what annoyed her torturer. Pushing his advantage, he stuck his red face against the face of the captive and licked her neck while growling like a bear. Liam couldn't take it anymore.
"Okay, fuck it, stop this bullshit! Louis!!" He practically screamed.
The other turned his head to catch the driver's gray eyes reflected in the narrow mirror.
"Just take care of the road and leave me the fuck alone!." His tone was heavy with threats and the brute ostentatiously folded back a flap of his shirt so that Liam could see his belt where the butt of a Manhurin MR73 protruded between the bulges of fat.
This is why Liam hated this kind of chore. But he didn't think it was worthwhile to say anything back and turned his attention back to the road. Of course, he made no effort to avoid the potholes that shook the car like a pile of laundry in a washing machine. After passing through a grove of oaks, they arrived at the hunting lodge.