Policewomen Ep. 02: Trina and Son

"The others?" Trina thought, wondering how many women had been here, held captive. She faked a small smile.

"Come, let's have another glass and enjoy the night air," Shaun stood, extending his hand to her, his gun still on the bed.

Shaun led Trina by the collar out of the huge bedroom, down a darkened corridor, entering Shaun's office. He poured two glasses of wine and gave one to Trina. He led her back to the back balcony area. Holding her from behind, kissing her neck and shoulders as she looked out into the vast dark wilderness, to the direction of the waterfall.

Trina turned around, staring into his eyes, and kissed him. His hands at her waist, holding her close, her fingers playing with his dark hair.

She broke the kiss, looking downward, "Shaun, this collar itches a bit."

He chuckled, took a step back, fished around in his front pocket and retrieved a small key. "Would you go to your knees for me first?"

Trina nodded, complying with his request.

She watched Shaun fish out his cock, rubbing the tip of his erect dick against her lips. "Give it a little bit of attention and I'll unlock and remove the collar."

Trina took a deep breath, hoping this would work, and slowly kissed and licked along Shaun's cock. He moaned, closing his eyes, sipping more wine. Trina's wine was next to her on the balcony floor.

Shaun sipped from the glass while Trina continued sucking him, slobbering all over his shaft, covering it with saliva. She began slowly jacking him off. He nodded in approval.

Her plan worked, he unlocked the collar, letting it fall off her neck onto the floor. Trina scratched at her neck, pretending that it was actually itchy. Shaun chuckled, standing there, watching her give him head.

He closed his eyes once more, inhaling the cool night air, sipping more wine. As he was sloshing the wine around in his mouth before swallowing, his testicles were practically crushed by a fast and hard impact from Trina's fist.

Shaun doubled over in pain, Trina threw wine in his face, blinding him, then busted the wine glass over his head. She grabbed the collar, wrapping the chain around his neck, and pushed him over the balcony.

He was hanging over it, a few feet away, Trina propping her legs on the edge, gritting her teeth, holding onto each end of the collar.

"Choke!" she grunted, Shaun flailing about below the balcony, trying to grasp the edge and pull himself up.

Trina's arms and legs were burning, the pain becoming too intense while supporting his weight. She closed her eyes, arched her back and pulled the chains as hard as she could. "Choke!"

Another minute passed, she didn't realize Shaun was motionless, hanging there. Trina heard no gurgling sounds, the chain was still. She opened her eyes, looking over his lifeless body. She released the chains, watching Shaun fall down through the trees, out of sight, sighing relief when she heard his body make a thud when it hit the ground below.

Now was the time to find her son and get them out of there.

Chapter 9 – Roger

Trina tip-toed back to the bedroom, to retrieve Shaun's pistol. However, she saw one of his men walking down that hall, entering a room across the hall. "No, just get out of here, get Richie," she thought.

She looked down at the stairs toward the front door, ducking when she saw Derrick and another man. "Just leave him out there. He can sleep out there all night for all I care," Derrick told the guy, walking toward the back of the mansion.

Trina snuck down the stairs, making sure Derrick was out of sight. She propped open the front door, peeking outside, making sure the coast was clear. "Goodnight," she heard a man's words echo in a corridor behind her. She darted out the door and saw someone sleeping in a chair, snoring lightly.

All the rage she suppressed, all the patience she mustered, all the waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike, all the thoughts of what they might've done to her son came pouring of her when she saw Roger sleeping in the chair.

She attacked him. She pummeled him with punches, waking him up, causing him to fall of his chair, putting his arms up hoping to deflect her blows. Several landed on his nose, breaking it, another busted open his mouth. She held him by his throat and unleashed her rage. Trina wanted to scream at him, at everyone. She remained silent, releasing the grip around his throat, standing over him, opting to kick him instead. Stomping on him as hard as she could, she heard a couple of Roger's ribs crack.

She straddled him next, snarling into his face, choking him out. Then she stopped, the rage subsided, she thought of Richie and using Roger to assist her with finding him – she needed Roger alive, for now.

Trina pulled him to his feet, slamming him face first against the nearby wall, pulling his arm around his back, trying with all her might to resist dislocating his shoulder.

"Listen you piece of shit, you will take me to my son right now, or I'll snap your arm off," Trina hissed in his ear. She took a step back, glancing over Roger – who was now coughing, crying – she saw a large knife in a holster on his belt.

"Ok, ok! Please," Roger begged, struggling to breath and talk, the pain from his broken ribs preventing him from doing much of anything.

"Where is he?!" Trina demanded.

"I know where, I'll take you to him, please don't hurt me," Roger whimpered, sniffing, his nose running with blood.

"If you lead me into a trap, I'm using you for a body shield – you'll die first. Got it?" Trina pulled up on his arm some, inflicting more pain.

"Yes!" he understood.

"Quiet. Now lead me to him."

"He's in a shack over there, the last one in the row," Roger said, nodding to the row of crude buildings to the left of the mansion. "I, I, saw them take him there."

"Go."

When Roger whimpered, or groaned in agony, Trina shushed him, loosening her grip his arm. They crept across the compound, Trina taking in everything. Each side of the mansion had several shacks, save for the garage on the right side. She figured there must be a purpose to each one. She'd find out soon enough.

Roger guided her to the last building in the row, dim light shining through the glass windows of the shack.

"He's in here?" Trina asked.

"Yes, but,"

"Remember what I said?" Trina cut him off. "If this is a trap, you die first."

"It's not, but there may be someone working in here. People sometimes work all night," Roger explained.

"Knock," Trina ordered, crouching behind Roger, removing the knife from his holster, while still pushing his arm up behind his back.

Someone answered the door, removing a gas mask. "What you want, Roger?" he asked annoyed by the interruption.

Before the man had a chance the answer, Trina sprung upward from behind Roger, taking the man by surprise and shoving Roger's knife into his throat, lodging it in the man's skull.

"Oh shit!" Roger cried.

"Quiet," Trina ordered, pulling the knife out of the gurgling man's neck. "Take me to my son."

"You, uh, you may not want to go in there. There's fumes and stuff," Roger pleaded.

"Fumes?"

"Yeah, it's one of the meth labs here."

Anger rose in Trina, "And you all put my son in there?"

"Well, yeah."

Trina said nothing, pushing Roger into the now empty room, using him as a shield for precaution. Roger pointed to a small closet to the right of the entrance.

Trina nodded at the door. "Roger, can you be a good boy and stay right here for me?" she asked, the fumes filling her nostrils.

"Uh, huh?" Roger asked.

Trina moved his arm to normal position, slamming his hand on a wooden table, followed by stabbing it with his knife, pinning him in place.

"Shh!" Trina shushed a crying, hysterical Roger again. She closed the door in case his cries could be heard.

"You're crazy!" Roger cried.

"Nope, you messed with a momma bear and will pay the price. That's all," Trina flung open the moldy door and saw Richie, in the dark, motionless.

"No, please no," she went to her knees, touching his shoulder, tears welling up in her eyes.

She rolled him onto his back, his face beaten, swollen, and bloody. His eyes were almost swollen shut and red, there was more burn-like redness around his nose and mouth. "Richie!" Trina cried.

A sigh of relief washed over her when he coughed several times. She helped him stand, but he could barely walk, dizzy from chemical exposure.

"Mom," he whispered.

"I'm getting you out of here," Trina said, helping him walk.

"Who, who is that?" he whispered again, referring to Roger.

Trina pulled the knife out of Roger's hand, causing more crying, "He's my helper."

She cut the ropes around Richie's wrists, pulled Roger along, and exited the meth lab.

Trina had to drag a babbling, crying Roger to the exit of the compound, her other arm around Richie's waist. In the moonlight, Trina could see a long gravel driveway surrounded by pines and thick undergrowth. "Is this it?" She asked Roger

"Y-Yes, the exit," he whimpered a reply, holding his hand. "Road is at the end, that way."

"Richie, can you walk down that path?" Trina asked her son.

"Yeah, I think so," he coughed a few times.

"Good, take it slow if you need to," Trina turned around, looking back toward the mansion, directly behind them. It was the direction she wanted her and Richie to head.

"I want you to take a left when you reach the end of the driveway, then go a little while and find a nice hiding spot, maybe a big tree or boulder. I want you to wait for me there," Trina said.

"Wait, no, come with me," Richie pleaded.

"I can't. I will meet you there. I have unfinished business to take care of here."

"Please, no, come with me."

"Richie, I have no radio or cell phone. I have no way to contact nearby park rangers, or even my future employers at the precinct in town. I need to get someone's attention to this place."

"Mom," he shook his head.

Trina grit her teeth, staring at her son. "They RUINED our camping trip. A mother and son camping trip."

Roger coughed, trying to make some noise, but struggled with his broken ribs. Trina stomped on his chest again for good measure.

"I cannot let that stand. Do I make myself clear," Trina said, returning her gaze to her son.

"Yes. I'll turn left, go a little ways and hide just off the road," Richie answered.

"Good. Whatever you hear or see, just wait for me," Trina kissed his lips hard, causing him to wince with pain.

She watched her son limp down the pathway into the darkness, gradually becoming a shadow, then invisible.

"Getting through that ordeal last year changed me. If I get through this one," Trina thought, when Richie was out of sight, "I'm fucking that boy's brains out," she said out loud.

"Huh?" Roger asked.

"Shut up, Roger," Trina said, pulling him to his feet, his arm behind his back, a knife pointed to his side.

Chapter 10 - Vengeance

Trina dragged Roger across the compound to the garage. She searched him for keys after dumping him at the door. "Which one?" she held the key in front of him, hoping the moonlight was enough for him to see.

"Th-that one," he whispered, pointing with his good hand.

Trina tried it, saw it worked, and carefully, as quietly as possible slid open the garage door from the bottom. She dragged Roger inside, immediately searching for the gas cans in the dark.

She had a plan, but was missing a few pieces. "Roger, these other crappy little huts, what's in them besides meth labs."

"Weapons, is next door. One is a moonshine still. There's a few other labs for different drugs. I don't know, I'm not allowed in there," Roger coughed.

"So drugs and weapons, and who knows what else ol' Shaun was up to," Trina said.

"Huh?" Roger asked.

Trina didn't explain her use of past tense. "I need you to stay here and be quiet. Can you do that?"

"Please just let me go, I won't call for help," Roger begged. Trina kicked him in the chest again, causing him to gasp with pain, making sure he'd be unable to scream for help with those broken ribs.

"I'll let you go when I'm done," Trina smiled, making her way to the corner where she saw gas cans and oil drums.

Using a hand truck she found, she wheeled the oil drums outside. "Roger, do any of these keys open the other huts?"

"Y-yeah, just take them," he said barely above a whisper, his breathing shallow.

Trina set the knife down on the workbench. She saw the small blow torch in the dim light coming through a window. She confirmed it worked, left the garage, keys in one hand, blow torch in the other and went next door. She tried a few keys before getting the correct one. Turning the blow torch off in case Roger lied about the shack next door being weapons and actually being a toxic lab, she entered and reached around in the dark.

She felt a few open boxes, filled with ammunition. She turned on the blow torch, seeing a wide variety of guns on racks, shotguns, rifles, semi-automatics and automatics, banned assault weapons and a couple items that interested her the most – boxes grenades and a rocket launcher.

"I'm sure Shaun would've received a large payday for selling these," Trina whispered, grabbing a small box of grenades, leaving a few others in the weapon shack. She set them outside and retrieved the rocket launcher and a single rocket.

She wheeled an oil drum into the weapons shack, removed the cap and tipped it over. Trina rolled the drum out toward the center of the compound until all the oil was poured out in a path to the weapons shack.

She repeated the process to two buildings on the opposite side of the compound, creating a puddle of oil inside them, rolling the drum out into the open compound area until its contents were empty.

Trina poured gasoline on the outside of those buildings and all around the inside of the garage. She next emptied three gas cans all over the truck she and Richie were taken in along all with two others. There was a fourth truck she left alone, seeing it was unlocked, she set the small boxes of grenades in the passenger side seat. She put a final gas can on the floor in front of that seat.

Roger was making too much noise now, coughing, and struggling to talk. He was limping out of the garage toward the exit.

"Oh no, no, no. Not yet Roger," Trina whispered.

She walked toward him, grabbing him by the arm, pulling him along toward the meth lab where she found Richie.

Opening the door, she pushed Roger inside. She was out of gasoline and oil. Trina decided to use a grenade to start her act of vengeance.

Heading back to the truck, she grabbed a grenade and made her way back to the lab. Someone was blocking her path. Trina recognized him as one of the hugely muscular men from her and Richie's campsite.

"Oh great," she said, seeing the man charging at her.

Trina ducked and rolled away from him. He quickly lunged at her, grabbing her arm, swinging her around and tossing her against the meth lab door. She ducked when his fist came toward her head, his hand busting through the thin wood. Trina ducked once more, avoiding another blow.

The man caught her again and flung her against it, causing her to crash through it.

The man entered the lab, Trina scurrying about, avoiding his fists and legs. Roger stood, begging the man to help him. He was backhanded almost clear across the lab for his trouble.

"In here!" Trina heard more men approaching from outside.

"Ok time to start the party early," she said, moving and ducking more blows.

The man grabbed her, picked her up over his head, spinning her around. She was still clinging to a grenade. "Sorry Roger!"

As the man threw Trina toward the cheaply constructed window at the front of the lab, she pulled the pin on the grenade, tossing it to the back of the lab.

She flew through the window, glass cutting her legs, sides, and arms. Trina landed and rolled away as fast she could. The meth lab exploded, sending her and two men back toward the truck. She landed with a thud against the side, going to her knees.

Trina heard a loud, screaming sound, coming from above. She looked up to the night sky seeing a human-shaped fireball traveling across the compound, toward the garage. It was Roger.

He landed on a skylight on the roof, bursting into the gasoline covered interior, causing it to explode.

"Well, Roger," Trina said, her and the two men rising to their feet. "That's one way to get fired."

Trina gave the man to her left a look, followed by the one to her right. They grimaced at her one-liner and shook their heads. Trina shrugged.

She saw one of the men draw his gun, she ducked, he fired, shooting the man across from him dead. Trina swept his legs, causing him to trip. She pounced on top, punching him several times until he was unconscious.

She had no time to catch her breath. The huge, muscular man emerged from the exploded meth lab on fire, a grin on his face. He rushed toward Trina.

"Ugh. Let me guess, you guys make and sell PCP here too?" She asked him. She grabbed the gun and shot him several times, emptying it, most of the bullets landing in his chest, the final one in his head. He collapsed in front of Trina, still on fire.

"Fuck you," Trina cursed his lifeless body.

Another explosion came from behind Trina, she ducked, fiery debris falling all around her, catching a nearby, gas-covered building on fire. The weapon shack exploded and it wasn't done. The grenades were next.

It was like a fireworks show that kept going and going. Trina remained hidden behind the truck. She was able to watch all the buildings she made a path of oil to, light up, catching on fire from explosions, then exploding themselves. She saw armed men, in a panic, exiting the mansion, only to be taken out by a fireball, or other explosion. She lit one final path of oil, watching the flame catch up to a final building, exploding when it arrived.

Trina was in a warzone that she herself created, but she wasn't done yet.

When the final explosions subsided, she stood, reaching into the truck, grabbing more grenades from the box in the passenger side seat. She unpinned them and tossed them to the other trucks, ducking as they exploded.

One final task remained.

She got in the last truck; the keys left in the ignition, started it and backed up toward the exit. Trina got out, got the rocket launcher, and loaded it with a single rocket. "Point and pull the trigger. Hopefully this will work," she said.

She fired the rocket toward the mansion, a good 200 feet away. It hit near the front door, off to the side a bit, a few men being taken out by the blast.

Trina got back in the truck, floored the gas pedal and headed straight toward the stairs leading to the front door. She waited until she was near the front steps of the mansion, grabbed a grenade from the box, unpinned it and tossed it to floor. She opened the driver side door and fell out of the truck, rolling on the dirt.

She watched the truck careen up the stairs and bust through the front door, exploding, sending a huge fireball through the roof into the sky.

Trina started running toward the exit of the compound, more grenades going off in the mansion behind her. When she got to the beginning of the long driveway, she watched a few men scurry about on fire, the compound in ruins – leaving barely enough for evidence should any authorities in nearby counties see the fiery display.

She saw someone emerge from the fire and wreckage at the front door. Trina stared at the man in the distance, she could tell he was staring right back at her. She knew who he was.

"Come get me, you son-of-a-bitch. I dare you," Trina said.

"Richie," Trina thought. She rushed down the dirt driveway, turning left at the end.

"Richie!" she called out to him continuously for 50 feet after she turned off the driveway. Finally she heard him behind a large boulder. He emerged, limping slightly.