Crossing the Line Read Online Free PDF Page A

went end over end. He could hear the rushing of the air. He imagined he was traveling the globe, flying far away from whatever horrible end was awaiting him in reality.
    He connected with the tree he had used as back support while shooting up. His shoulder blade was crushed by the force of the blow and his arm popped out of the socket. Upon crumpling to the unforgiving forest floor his jaw shattered and one of his cheek bones cracked.
    He let out a whimper of pain. It was meant to be a scream, but the tissue around his esophagus was inflamed from the crushing force of the enormous hand that had just held it. He opened his eyes as far as he could manage and looked around, but saw no sign of his attacker.
    “Please,” he whispered. He felt as if his throat would come apart in chunks with the simple utterance. Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. He tried to position himself so that he could crawl, but pain announced itself in all of his joints. He collapsed completely on the forest floor and sobs racked his back. Dirt filled his mouth and he didn’t bother to spit it out. He surmised it would only make his throat and broken mouth hurt to try.
    Moments passed and he began wondering if his attack was over. He wished he had taken a bit more heroin, perhaps then he would not have felt so many of his injuries. He wondered how long it would be before the others came looking for him. Surely they would not make their move toward the girls without him there to help. He didn’t know what time it was, but it had yet to begin getting dark so it could be quite some time before they made their move to exact their revenge on the thieves.
    All of his thoughts of salvation ended when he felt the grasp fall on the back of his neck. He was lifted from the ground and turned to face his attacker. The skull of the canine stared back at him. It seemed to transform before his eyes. No longer was it the skull of a wolf, but now it was that of a ram. The connection with the devil was not lost on him. He was a theology major, after all.
    The killer had set aside the scythe pick axe and produced a large bowie knife. Tommy’s bladder released when the knife was plunged into his solar plexus. He felt the thick blade push through the muscle and flesh of his body. Then a splendid numbness filled him directly after it crashed through his spinal cord.
    Blood rushed up into his throat and spilled out from between his lips. His body convulsed without any control. The knife slid out of his chest and he was gently set down on the forest floor, propped with his back against the tree. Despite the creeping approaching of death he was able to see just long enough to know what the final blow would be.
    The killer raised the blood streaked blade of the bowie high and brought it down on the center of Tommy’s head. The heavy blade and the massive strength of the madman made quick work of the skull. The blade dug deep through the tissue of the brain and came out the bottom of Tommy’s jaw.
    The corpse’s bowels released, but the psycho did not pay the stench any attention. He pulled the knife free and began the busy work of carving away the front of Tommy’s skull.

6
     
    Chandra refused to be the first to pass out. She knew what would happen if she gave in to the swimming darkness that was fogging her mind. The girls were all friends, but it was party rules that if you were the first to fall asleep you would be stripped naked and set out on the porch for the night.
    She was boisterous enough— at least outwardly— to make it seem like she didn’t notice that all of the other young women had better bodies than her. Inside, though, there was no way in Hell that she wanted them to see her rolls of fat. They never said anything about her size, but she knew that they thought less of her because she was not slim and beautiful like the rest of them. She was the friend that they kept around so they could feel better about being the hot girls on campus. It was