Check on the sound

"I heard something," you say to Ritter.

He leans down and kisses your neck. He moves up to your ear.

"Did you hear this?" He whispers and his tongue is loud against your earlobe.

Then you hear it again. A soft muffled cry. A thumping. Something scratching. Other sounds, behind the rain. You feel a hardness forming in the pit of your stomach. The playful smile dies on your lips.

"Seriously," you say and push against Ritter.

He rolls off of you, his cock sliding from your cum-filled cunt. You feel more of his juices spill from your pussy when you sit up. There's a puddle of your mingled juices on the floor. You ignore it and climb to your feet. You stay in a low crouch, more sperm spilling out and dripping onto the floor.

When you peer over the chest-high partition of the cashier counter what you see freezes you in place.

Crazies! A lot of them. They somehow made it in without you or Ritter noticing and now Cassie and her poor brother are paying the price.

More than two dozen of the wretches are crowding around the teenage girl and her comatose brother. In the stark and erratic light of the storm you see men and women in rags. Their faces are masks of animalistic cruelty. Some have mutilated themselves, chewing off fingers or tearing off strips of flesh. Several of the females are prodding Cassie's brother, uncertain of whether or not he is alive.

Most of them are busy with Cassie. You don't want to look, but you can't avoid it. They have torn apart her clothing. Rough bleeding scratches are visible on her pale flesh and as they circle around her you see that they are taking turns with her. Several madly flog their yellowed and disease-ravaged cocks as they wait their turn. One is atop her, **** her with one hand as he saws a bloated dick in and out of her little 18 year old pussy.

The expression on Cassie's face is beyond horror. Tears glisten on her cheeks and her eyes are wide and glassy. You may be able to save her body, but it might already be too late for her mind.

"Fuck," Ritter hisses as he sees the situation as well.

You tear your gaze away from the gang **** of the poor girl and look to the rifles you and Ritter left behind on the checkout conveyor. They're only 10 or 15 feet away from the circle of sex-mad crazies, but much further than that from you and Ritter.

"We've got to do something," you say.

"Are you kidding?" Ritter looks at you frantically. "We're lucky they didn't find us."

"We have to go for the guns," you say. "Sneak over to them."

"No," Ritter says. "Damn it, no. They were an extra. This would have happened to them if we'd never showed up. Let the crazies have them. We can hide here until they go."

You look in Ritter's eyes. You see fear reflected as anger.