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"Just hang on, honey. They'll find us," Lisa said reassuringly.

"Sure they'll find you," Art said, sneering as he kept his eyes closed. "But it's how they'll find you that ought to make you worry," he said, chuckling deep in his throat.

Marilyn's eyes widened with horror and she let a tiny gasp escape from her mouth as she turned away from the younger Decker brother and pressed her forehead against the window. Lisa felt her skin crawl as she thought over what Art said. So far the brothers kept her and Marilyn alive. They were useful. So far.

"Hey, let's move it," Hank said in a low whisper. Lisa looked through the front window and saw the big blond standing by a parked white Chevy van. He was waving his right hand frantically, indicating they should hurry up.

"And don't try anything cute," the black-haired Decker brother said, pointing his pistol at Lisa first, then Marilyn. "We don't have much to lose if we blow you away here. After you knock off a couple of broads, two more don't make any difference."

Lisa nodded nervously, then opened her door and helped Art out of the car. Marilyn followed closely behind with Hank next to her, jamming the barrel of his gun into her side. The four of them walked quickly across the darkened lot up to Claude.

"Some clown's left his keys under the seat. Let's move," Claude said, throwing open the doom.

Marilyn and Lisa crawled in the back of the van with Art. Whoever owned it put a lot of work in fixing up the rear section. There was a tiny kitchen space at one end, while the rest of the area was thickly carpeted and fitted with a tiny singe bed. The two nurses laid Art on the bed, then squatted down on the carpeted floor as Hank and Claude crawled into the front seats.

"Let's go. We'll hunt up a place to crash along the way," Hank said nervously, peering out the window toward the diner.

The big van pulled quickly out of the lot and onto the coastal highway. Lisa didn't know how long they'd driven, but guessed it had been over an hour when she felt the van slow down.

"What do you think?" she beard Hank ask Claude. The blonde crawled forward until she could see out the front window of the van. The brothers had stopped in front of a long, white clapboard farmhouse. She looked around and realized that the place was relatively secluded. Lisa could see some movement inside the brightly lit, cheerful-looking building. She wanted to scream out and warn whoever was inside. The blonde knew that an unbelievable horror was about to be inflicted on those innocent people inside.

"We'll have to make it work. Whoever owns this van knows it's been stolen by now and they've probably called the cops. With the other car back there, even the dumb fuzz's gonna figure out what happened. We'll have to lay low somewhere for a couple of days before we make a break for the border. There's plenty of places we can store this thing here," Claude said, turning the van into the gravel drive and puffing up to the side of the farm house. He turned off the engine and dimmed the lights.

"Okay. We don't wanna get them worked up till we have to. Don't know how many's inside. You two broads are gonna go in first with Art. Tell them that he got hurt bad in a car accident. Hank, you go in, too. If it looks okay, come out and let me know. Then we'll see what happens," Claude said with an obscene chuckle.

Lisa felt her blood freeze as she thought of what they'd do to those people inside. At least she and Marilyn were necessary for their brother. Whoever lived in that farmhouse would be disposed of as quickly as possible.

"Move it, bitch," Hank said, reaching back and hitting Lisa hard across the right cheek. She caught her balance, then crawled over to Art and helped him off the couch. She, Marilyn, Art and Hank walked up to the front door and knocked.

"Remember, no funny business," Hank said in a whisper as he touched a threatening bulge in his jacket pocket.

Lisa brushed back her blonde hair nervously as she heard someone walking up to the front door. A hand brushed away a white cotton curtain that hung over the square window in the door, and Lisa found herself looking into the face of a young, pretty red-headed girl. She smiled, then unlocked the door and opened it.

"Yes?"

"It's my – uh, brother. He's been hurt badly in an accident. This man picked us up and was going to take us to a hospital but then Art started to look worse. We had to stop. Do you mind if we come in and lay him down?" Lisa asked, feeling ashamed and horrified that she was the instrument of this teenager's probable destruction.

"Of course. Where did the accident happen? Golly, there's nothing around here. Where were you coming from?" the girl babbled out excitedly as the four walked into the brightly lit living room. "You want to use our phone to call an ambulance. There's a hospital about twenty-five miles away from here."

Lisa thanked the girl and dragged Art to a long couch in the middle of the living room. The younger Decker brother was playing his part well, groaning and acting half-conscious as the two women laid him down.

"You don't look too good either," the girl said to Lisa.

"We were knocked around, too," Lisa said, giving Marilyn a glance.

"Don't you want to use the phone for the ambulance?" the girl asked a little nervously as she watched Hank apparently examine the living worn and adjoining kitchen.

"Hmmm? Oh, yeah. Say, you don't live here alone, do you?"

"With my father. But he's out visiting friends tonight. I could call him, if you want," the girl said. Lisa could tell that the girl was getting a little alarmed at Hank's strange actions.

"Naw, that's okay. Where's the phone?" the big man asked as he towered in the doorway leading to the kitchen.

"In the dining room by the dish cabinet," she said, moving toward the doorway.

"I'll find it," Hank growled, walking into the darkened room. Lisa breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed. She looked around the living room and was struck by its rustic charm. It was like something out of a western movie set. The furniture was done in a kind of early western American style. Pictures of horses and mountain scenes hung on the walls. Over the doorway to the dining room were two hunting rifles crossed over each other. There were two chairs on either side of the couch, a rocker to the right and several wooden bookcases lining the walls.

"What kind of accident was it?" the girl asked after several minutes of silence went by.

"Car," Lisa said loudly, realizing her discomfort was obvious.

"Are you nurses?" the girl asked, examining their torn, dirtied uniforms closer than before.

"Uh, yes. In fact he was driving us down from our cabin up in the mountains when we had this accident. We've both got the duty tonight," Lisa said, realizing how idiotic the story sounded.

The girl wrinkled up her forehead as she heard the explanation.

"You changed at the cabin for work?"

"We were late in leaving. We…" Lisa started to say. Just then Hank walked back in the living room.

"They'll be here in a couple of minutes. Mind if I get out of here and back to my van a sec?" he asked the girl.

"No, please," she said, obviously relieved that he was leaving the house.

Hank walked out, flashing a warning look at Lisa. The blonde nurse shifted her eyes down to the floor, avoiding the girl's inquiring stare as the big man ran to the van. Lisa shifted her feet nervously on the polished wooden floor. She heard the van door open, then slam shut. It was Claude getting out. There was the sound of running feet getting closer to the house. Bath she and the girl stood up, both trembling with terror as the sounds of two men's boots thudded across the wooden porch. Claude and Hank burst into the living room simultaneously.

"Oh God!" the girl screamed, falling back into the chair and looking at the men in wide-eyed terror as they slammed the door shut.

"Shut her up," Hank said to Claude as he pointed at the hysterically shrieking girl. The big blonde strode over to her and raised his hand high in the air. Even from where she was, Lisa could hear the whooshing sound of his fist slicing through the air, followed by a sickening, slapping thud as his hand cracked across the girl's skull.